Harry Potter and the Chamber of Known Facts
by moonsword27
Summary: Harry Potter was left in a basket with only a letter as explanation, but one of his father's friends took it upon himself to answer the Dursleys questions up front. This one change leads to a different life for Harry. AU
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling. I am not J.K. Rowling. Therefore, I do not own Harry Potter. Don't ya love logic?

I've been reading HP fanfic for so long, I figured I might as well take a whack at one. I'm sure you'll run across some clichés (since I'm working in the main storyline and there's only so many ways to come up with an excuse for it), however I do hope to make this original, and hopefully – worth reading.

The beginning of this chapter clearly references the actual start of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone/ Sorcerer's Stone. This is not an attempt to use the actual text and masquerade it as my own, I am simply horrible at beginnings – hers works well, and I chose to keep it similar until I actually reached the point where my universe and the canon divides.

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The Dursleys who lived at Number Four Privet Drive were a perfectly normal family, thank you very much. Petunia Dursley was a stay at home mother for their only child, Dudley who was almost two now, and Vernon Dursley worked at a company called Grunnings that sold drills. All three were perfectly respectable, completely normal British citizens. So it was rather peculiar for them to be the subject of scrutiny from such strange strangers in the night. Fortunately for them, an old man with a long beard had mysteriously 'put out' the lights in all the street lamps, so none of the residents on Privet Drive could tell what was happening just outside their doors, even if they had been awake to see the drama that unfolded.

"I should have known you would be here, Professor McGonagall."

The old man peered over his half moon spectacles at a cat that had until that moment been sitting rather rigidly on a brick wall, almost in wait. At his words however, the cat jumped down, morphing as it did into the figure of a stern looking woman, with her hair up in a bun beneath a pointed green hat and dressed in robes just like the man.

"Are the rumours true, Albus?"

He inclined his head slowly, "The good, and the bad."

"He's gone? And the boy – "

The old man - whose name was really Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, but tended to go by just Albus Dumbledore – calmed his associate by placing an arm on her shoulder.

"Hagrid is bringing him."

"Are you sure you can trust Hagrid with something as important as this?" The stern woman hissed out worriedly.

"Ah, professor, I would trust Hagrid with my life."

"I'm not saying his heart's not in the right place… " she trailed off. The professor, Minerva McGonagall, was one to choose her battles, and she had clearly decided this one would do no good. Just then, a giant of a man pulled in on a flying motorcycle. Dismounting, he picked up a basket which contained a seemingly at peace child, currently sound asleep despite the fact he was in a basket of all things.

"Lil tyke fell asleep as we were flying over Bristol."

Albus had smiled and accepted the basket from Hagrid before moving to place basket and fifteen month old on the doorstep to Number Four Privet Drive.

In a last ditch attempt, Minerva spoke again after Dumbledore had calmed Hagrid down. "Must we leave him here? They really are the worst sort of Muggles imaginable, I've watched them all day and they are – "

She was interrupted once again by Albus Dumbledores' soothing voice, "The only family he has." Gently, he slipped on envelope next to the young child.

"But surely we could find someone to take him in? There won't be a child in our world who won't know his name!"

"Exactly. He's far better off, growing up away from all that."

He smiled gently down at the sleeping infant, a strangely serious expression in his eyes.

"Take care, Harry Potter. The boy… who lived."

The three eventually dispersed, and none noticed the grey rat crawl out from the blanket. Even when the street lamps re-lit, no one saw the small, pudgy man sit down on the stoop and rock the infant Harry back and forth, tears flowing freely.

That is, no one noticed until early in the morning, a shriek pierced the air as one Petunia Dursley nearly tripped on Harry's basket when she opened the door to get the milk and the paper.

The small man known to the world as Peter Pettigrew and as Wormtail to his friends hastily rose to his feet, child still in his arms.

"Wha- what…. "

Well, at least of all of her sister's freakish friends, Petunia thought dimly, it's the shy, polite boy. The watch-out who would warn you if he didn't particularly agree with whatever asinine prank his friends were pulling, and who always seemed to be hanging on the best he could to his pride. Of all her sister's acquaintances, she could only stand two: this one, and a quiet, bookish fellow who adored chocolate and books and had whispered questions to Petunia more than once about the normal world and if there was hope for him to blend into it. The others were either flamboyant or hopelessly rude or just exceedingly strange and most were condescending to her. No, at least there were small favors. It wasn't just the boy in a basket with a stupid note, there was actually a person who wouldn't try to intimidate them and would be able to answer there questions – because surely one letter could not cover it all.

There was a loud sound of pounding feet on an unfortunate staircase and the small rat like man and child were greeted with the sight of Vernon Dursley next to his long necked wife, his mustache twitching furiously.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked in a furious whisper while Petunia looked around before hastily motioning them inside.

"Well, the thing that you have to… that is… " was all the answer the rat like man was able to stutter out, eyes flicking around in the half dark of dawn furtively.

"Quick, quick, before the neighbors see," were her words while her husband muttered under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'no account freaks just show up and don't even have the courtesy to dress properly'.

Satisfied once the windows were well shut, Petunia turned on her heel and ordered the wracked man tersely. "Now. Explain. And this better not have anything to do with my good for nothing sister. That's not her brat is it?"

To both Dursley's dismay, the small man nodded his head shakily.

"She's dead. They're both dead. You-Know-Who killed them. Oh, it's all my fault. I should have known, I should have warned James and Lily."

"You-Know-Who?" Vernon thundered, angry that not only were there freaks dressed abnormally taking up his important time in his house no less, but they couldn't even bother to be clear.

"We don't speak his name," Peter said apologetically. "Don't know how long the Taboo will last for. No one wants to catch his attention, or that of his followers."

"The dark lord Moldy something?" Petunia asked, a mixture of suspicion and horror (at actually having remembered) on her face. "I heard Lily talk about him once."

"Er, yes, close enough. He's been gathering power and followers for a while now. Dabbled and learned a bunch of dark stuff. He wants to take over all of Britain at least, see? Thinks purebloods – that's folk who can trace their magic through their families back generations – are the best. Man wants to get rid of all muggleborns – like your sister – and muggles – like you. He and his followers torture and kill 'em and their families for sport. James and Lily refused to join him, fought back against him. He dueled James for a bit, didn't take long to kill him we think, but it was awful to see just the same… he went upstairs to the nursery – he wanted to kill Harry, see, there was a prophecy made not too long ago that Harry's the only one who could destroy him. Or the Longbottom boy, to be fair, but that's pointless now. Anyway, he tried to kill Harry, but Lily wouldn't let him, so he just… he killed her first, and then… when he tried to get Harry, he couldn't. Curse rebounded on him."

"So.. so you're saying this Moldy guy killed my sister, her husband and was thwarted by my fifteen month old nephew?"

Her tone clearly portrayed her lack of confidence in any person who couldn't defeat a mere child, and a bit of disgust. She knew that Howard – no, Harold, it was Harold – was going to be just as strange and abnormal as her sister, but really – even she couldn't bring herself to kill him.

"That little twerp is such a freak the guy who's been terrorizing your kind couldn't kill him?" Vernon glared for good measure at the sleeping child. "What's he doing on our door stoop?"

"He's a hero," Peter said defensively, holding him tight. "I'm not sure why he was left on the step – I heard Dumbledore say something about family and protection in Latin when he leaned over the basket, but the rest I didn't catch. He left a letter, it might say."

"Why do I care about some man named Dumbledore? Sounds like some crackpot off the streets."

Petunia intervened this time, "He's the Headmaster at Hogwarts. What does he have to do with my sister? Brilliant as everyone said she was, I could have sworn she would have been out of school by now. They don't have a Uni for your kind do they?"

"Erm… strictly speaking, I'm not sure I'm allowed to tell you that. But basically, Lily and James and I and quite a few other people were part of a group that was trying to stop…" he hesitated, and then continued with a slight smile, "Moldy. He's the freak, man isn't even human anymore I bet. As for Harry – I'm not sure. I think Lily might have done something to protect him. I was never as good as Lily with charms and such though." He looked a bit ashamed at this, conveniently managing to overlook Petunia's question about schooling.

"Alright then," Vernon said gruffly, "what's this got to do with us. I'll have you know, we don't want any of your freakishness in our home contaminating our precious Duddykins."

"I'll bet this says." Petunia cast a shrewd look to Pettigrew, then leaned over and snatched the envelope left in young Harry's basket. Reading over the letter, her expression grew cold with a sort of pinched look.

"Well honestly. The nerve of that man, telling us we must take him in for his protection and ours, using Lily against me like that. It's a good thing he left you here to answer questions," she gave an indignant sniff, missing Pettigrew's uncomfortable squirm.

Surprisingly, her husband did not. "He didn't leave you here, did he?" Vernon asked once he had glanced over the letter. "This reads more like a politely phrased order with threats. You've been rather polite for a freak, always were one of the more normal ones anyway."

"Erm... thank you?" Peter had never heard his lack of magical prowess actually praised before, even if it was in a twisted sort of way from one of the 'worst sort of muggles'.

Vernon turned to his wife and the two discussed something quietly for a few moments before turning back to their impromptu guests.

"Last question – why can't you take the boy? The letter said it was important that he remained safe, something about the hope of both our worlds, but shouldn't a… someone like you be more able to care for him? Besides, I highly doubt Lily's will says for him to be raised by me in the event of her death."

Petunia had the grace to look slightly ashamed at her second question, but the curiousity was still burning in her eyes. Neither she nor her husband were yet the embittered beings they could have easily become if Petunia's sister's child had been unceremoniously thrust into their lives. At least this time, they were having time to adjust to it. You will find that people can be extraordinarily forgiving, even in the worst circumstances. It isn't difficult situations that people find most offensive though. It's being surprised. The single incorporation of Peter Pettigrew in this world had lessened the impact of shock the young Dursley couple received that November 1st.

Peter exhaled slowly. He was beginning to think that answering Harry's new guardians' questions honestly and politely was a good thing. He had noticed as the conversation went on that their hostility had lowered significantly. As of this moment, Pettigrew was relieved to note that he was no longer fearing Vernon picking up a baseball bat or Petunia a broom and using either weapon to subdue him and kick him off their property with or without Harry.

"I cannot simply because I have no legal claim to Harry," he said honestly and with a trace of regret. "I'm not a relative or his godfather. And the man who is… Black, I don't… well, it's best you never let him around. He's the reason your sister and brother-in-law are dead. There's a spell, it's called the Fidelius Charm. It allows you to place a secret inside a trusted person's soul. James and Lily placed the secret of their location inside Sirius Black – and he betrayed them to Moldy. I'm going to try and go after him later today. I hope I'm able to get away. If not, I think I can at least make a big enough scene or delay him long enough to get our authorities."

Vernon scowled and muttered something about good to nothing ingrates and bad blood will rule out while Petunia's face turned chalk white. The man who had tormented her, ruined her wedding and her few visits with her once beloved sister was the secondary cause of all this mess? This wasn't the time to say I told you so, but oh, she despaired that she had not convinced her sister away from the wretched freak in time.

"We all thought he was good," Peter was talking almost to himself now, a scratched monotone that spoke of a horror too great for his mind to comprehend. "He sorted Gryffindor. He was on our side all the time against all of Moldy's would be followers. We should have known when he tried to kill Snape, but we thought he was just being a prankster… he was always joking at other people's expense, always getting away with things…." Peter shook his head, still a bit shell shocked. "And he cost us all." Clearing his throat, he tried to actually finish answering the questions. "I'm honestly not sure what their will says. If I survive long enough, I will let you know. And while I can't raise Harry, I would like to help and be a part of his life. As long as that is alright with you. If not, I understand, but I promise – our world isn't catching. If your son isn't already a wizard, he will not become one. It's something you are born with. You can't catch it like the pox and you can't lose it like your shoes. The only thing you can do is determine how much control you have over it. Unfortunately, Harry here… he needs to be able to embrace his more than most. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is defeated for now… but I heard the prophecy, and it's not completed yet. All I can think is that You-Know-Who is going to come back some day. And I don't want to know what will happen to either of our worlds if he isn't prepared, how we'll manage without him. Cobbling along on one foot probably."

Peter took a deep breath and finished, "Besides, Harry will be safest here. Dumbledore may be getting a bit old and he may love his sweets a bit more than normal, but he knows things. He probably knows more tricks with his wand than you know recipes Petunia, and Lily always complimented your cooking. What you have to understand is magic can sometimes be quite primitive, ancient like even. If Lily did something to protect Harry, it may stay intact as long as he is if someone of her blood. That means you and to an extent, your son. While he lives with you, I expect what you read of the letter will be true. You will all be kept safe from attack from," a smile twitched across his expression, "Moldyshorts and his followers. I could offer him no such protection. I'm really not the best."

He sighed and then reluctantly handed Harry and his basket over to a still slightly shaken Petunia.

"I shouldn't keep you from your day any longer, and I'm sorry for intruding. I just wanted to be able to say goodbye to him and help you two understand. People always like to keep me in the dark and I've rather hated it to tell you the truth. That and I hoped if I talked to you, you might agree to let me visit. And maybe Remus too."

"That's the poor scholar one?" Vernon asked suspiciously, considering for a moment at Peter's nod before agreeing. "Alright, but only you two. And only if you can call on the phone in advance like normal people. Or at least knock on the door during decent hours. That alright with you Pet?"

Petunia nodded quietly. "I think we can agree to that. I'd still prefer none of that m- magic nonsense in this house though."

"I'm sure we can manage that." Peter licked his lip nervously. "Could I have a quill? Er, that is a pen? I can write Remus' number down for you. Just in case…."

Surprisingly, it was Vernon who fished one out from a desk drawer and gave him the envelope to write on. After Peter scratched down his friend's number, he glanced sorrowfully to Harry, then gave both Dursley's a salute.

"Thank you for your time."

It was as he was turning out the door that Petunia spoke up.

"Pettigrew!"

Glancing back, he had to smile when he heard her parting remark.

"Good luck."

"Thank you," he whispered quietly, walking around the corner to Wisteria Walk before disappearing with a 'pop'.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you so much for your responses! I was a little shocked to see email notifications so quickly to tell you the truth. It was rather dazzling.

On with the story!

Chapter 2

It was a rather quiet breakfast for the Dursley household that morning, what with Petunia looking askance at her nephew and fretting about her own son and all of the things that had just been dumped on their plates. A small part of her was also wondering over the mention of a prophecy, but the man had said he hoped to visit, so she could ask then. Failing that, they had the phone number for the bookish one. She was also wondering what the neighbors would think about them having another charge so unexpectedly. Hopefully no one would think Harry was the result of a dalliance by Vernon. But then, how could they? The boy looked nothing like either of them. Ah well, they'd have to cross that bridge when they came to it. The real question was where were they going to get all of the baby things needed for Harry. If only she had thought to ask… well, maybe she would call that Remus fellow today when she set the boys down for a nap. Yes, that would do. Harry could certainly survive using Dudley's things for a little while. After all, Dudders had outgrown quite a few sets of clothing and there were a few toys he had never taken to.

Vernon was not thinking quite so deeply. He was pondering today's business deals and how many drills he could hope to sell. Vernon was also rather entertained by Dudley's practicing of his new word 'want'. He just hoped the little tyke adjusted to having his cousin around alright.

To be honest, his ego had been a bit puffed up from their conversation with Peter. His family was safer than even those freaks could make themselves according to the fre- well, that wasn't fair. He'd been as normal as he could, Vernon thought charitably. That didn't mean he liked them, but then, he didn't like most normal people. Yelling at people in general was one of his favorite hobbies; it served to prove his superiority.

Though he didn't know it, a small change in Vernon's thinking began at that moment. The separation of Peter from the classification of freak despite his ability to wield magic would have his subconscious working overtime in the days to come. It was the start of magic not being the classification of a 'freak' but the spiteful and malicious use of power over his family. After all, Vernon had not known of magic as a reality before he met Petunia. He had always considered it a fairy tale, nice enough in stories but dangerous nonsense in practice. Mostly because it was only crazies who really thought magic was possible. All that mystic mumbo jumbo required a lack of common sense and far too much imagination. Then, he heard all of Petunia's stories of their wretchedness. He had been disgusted and more than a bit frightened. However, those with magic were on his family's – and therefore his – side, well, that couldn't be too bad could it? After all, the only unfair advantage was the one he did not himself have.

Scraping the last bit of bacon off his plate, Vernon straightened his collar and kissed his wife's cheek, oblivious to the hallmark of thought he had just achieved.

"Well, I'm off to the office. I'll see you when I get home."

Petunia nodded absently, not even noticing the door swing shut with a soft click of the lock. She was momentarily startled by the sound of the car revving up, but soon went back to her self assigned task of cleaning up the kitchen and soaking the nipples for the two boys' bottles in hot water to sanitize them.

Currently, Petunia was debating whether or not it would be considered rude to call someone the day after their good friends had been betrayed to death in order to ask for their help. She was leaning towards it being acceptable in this situation. After all, she was related to one of the two casualties.

Yes, she supposed casualty was the right term for it. That dark powered freak might have killed them himself, but from what she had just been told, it had been part of an ongoing war.

Figures her sister would go and get herself involved in a war and not even tell her about it, was Petunia's rather uncharitable thought. She softened somewhat though, wondering if perhaps the reason her sister had become distant from her was from some misguided attempt to protect her. While Petunia herself had stayed away because of that vile Black boy and the strange, intense Snape chap she still held a grudge against all these years, Lily herself was a force to be reckoned with, and she had backed down as well. Petunia had always thought it was because Lily had sided with Black and the others over her, but perhaps she could hope it was simply that her little sister had taken someone else's means and put them to her own ends.

Sighing a bit, Petunia shook off her musings and grabbed a pad and pencil. She was going to have an awful lot to do today, not to mention from until the two could start caring for themselves more. What with two little ones a house and a husband to take care of, her work was cut out for her. Petunia just hoped they still had those diapers Dudley had outgrown. Harry was much smaller, not at all as healthy looking as Dudley. She decided that was to be expected given the age difference and how scrawny Lily had said James was when he was younger. With that worry pushed aside, she decided to prioritize the jobs she needed to accomplish, and precisely what they could afford.

Meanwhile, in a small apartment building on the outskirts of a barely respectable town, there resided a thin, scarred man who had just recently had to accept that his entire world had been turned upside down. Right now, he was still in the denial stage. The world looked too bright, the peace too surreal for it to be true.

Unfortunately for this man, it was that self same peace that was forcing him to accept the unwelcome truth. None of it made any sense though. How could James and Lily be dead? Heck, how could have Harry stopped Voldemort? Harry, the little one he had bounced on his knee just a week ago, whose first word had been 'Pa' to James' delight and who enjoyed telling Pa'foot to play.

And Merlin, how could Sirius have done this? They were like brothers. How could he have smiled and laughed with them all knowing their days were numbered and that he would soon betray them all to his filthy master. Voldemort was everything Sirius had ever proclaimed to abhor. He had despised all Slytherins on principle, or at least that was how it seemed. Remus' thought trailed off, wondering how Sirius had been able to fool them all. Had he been dark all along? Or had Voldemort offered him something that he could not resist?

Unable to think of what Sirius could ever want so much that he could not come by it honestly, Remus simply sighed. For the first time, he wondered how Peter was holding up. He had been so preoccupied with the news, it had not even occurred to him to worry for his one remaining true friend. The man felt rather guilty at this, which in addition to the growing anger at his now ex-best friend did nothing to help his mood.

To make matters worse, Dumbledore had sent him an owl a few hours before telling him that under no circumstances should he approach Harry. This was not an attempt of manipulation of Dumbledore's part, nor was it intended to be cruel. Albus Dumbledore was simply very aware, despite the number who thought him ignorant, how much the Dursley's prided themselves on their independence and normalcy. In the old Headmaster's mind, it was only polite to wait until invited, and this was, in effect, what he asked everyone to follow. There would be no visits to Harry without being invited first by his guardians. This way, Dumbledore hoped to soothe some of the Dursley's apprehension about raising a magical child. There was no call to make them feel threatened in their own home.

Sadly, Dumbledore had done that already by just dropping a child off on them with no offer of help and no chance of recourse. There is a reason they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Never matter that though, because while everyone makes mistakes, this particular one had been resolved as much as it could be. And truly, there were not many options to begin with. Who knows, perhaps the timing of Harry's arrival as a ward of the Dursley's had something to do with how well the blood wards worked. No one but Dumbledore knew the truth to that, as he was the one to place them, and the man wasn't telling.

Unbeknownst to a certain sandy haired young man with a few streaks of grey in his hair caused by the stress of his condition, his life was about to make another unexpected swerve, and he was about to be interrupted by a quite unanticipated call.

Remus had just been convincing himself to wash his face of the salt and floo Peter. He didn't know what they could do – James and Sirius had always been the ringleaders. In truth, he and Peter were much more followers, both going along simply because of their need to be accepted. Remus, for all his book smarts, had never had to develop the courage to stand on his own. As for Peter, well, he had not had the chance to grow into any sort of independence, since he was put down so often. However good natured a slight might be phrased, it still cuts, leaving its own sort of mark behind on its victim's psyche.

But before he could follow through on his plan, Remus was shocked by the shrill sound of ringing that came from the muggle telephone he had installed. Shocked and with hands still slightly wet, the sandy haired twenty one year old picked up the receiver. Clearing his throat tentatively, he finally mustered the courage to speak.

"Hello?"

He could hear a young voice saying something demandingly in the background, and a faint gurgle of another youngster, but no sound of his actual caller. Well, probably not a response to one of his job applications then. He decided to try again.

"You've reached Remus Lupin, can I help you?"

"Yes, yes. This is Petunia Dursley, and I was wondering – Dudley dear don't taunt your cousin so, Harry don't – " there was the sound of the phone cord being stretched as Petunia moved one of the children away from the other before turning her attention back to the phone. "I'm sorry about that. I was given your number."

She was? Dumbledore hadn't mentioned that. Remus wondered quietly, listening to the woman whose voice he had only associated with negative memories, aside from a bit of helpful advice.

"By whom, if you don't mind me inquiring?"

"Your nice friend," the voice answered primly. "Pettigrew explained some things to us before heading off to try and corner that good for nothing betraying freak."

Remus choked. If it was possible, Petunia had just knocked the wind out of him with that one statement.

If it was not possible, whatever happened was certainly simulating that effect extremely well. Peter was going after Sirius? PETER? Rapidly, he forced himself to focus on the situation at hand. Must help Harry.

"Do you… do you need something? Does Harry need something? I don't have a lot of money, but for Harry…."

Unspoken was the sentiment that he would be willing to do just about anything for the son of two of his best friends.

"I wouldn't ask you to buy anything," Petunia spoke over the phone, sounding almost scandalized. Dursleys definitely did not accept charity of any sort. "I was just wondering if there was anything of Harry's that could be moved here. That Dumbledore man just left him here in a basket – not even a proper infant's seat. We weren't exactly prepared for having another child quite so soon and with such little notice, you know."

"Ah, of course." Remus said understandingly, "Well, from what I understand, the Potter's house was fairly well destroyed. I can pop by and see. A few of us have things for him at out homes, just so we were prepared when we babysat him. Would it be alright if I came by after? Or would you prefer me to call?"

Judging by the silence on the other side of the line, Petunia was pondering this.

"Go ahead and call. I can give you the address now, but I'll need to talk to Vernon so he can be here when you come. I may not think you're completely untrustworthy, but I do not want any of that abnormal magic nonsense in my house. Peter said that won't be a problem."

Her last sentence clearly said that he had better agree as well, and Remus had to smile at his.

"Of course, there is no problem. I'm happy enough just being able to help Harry."

"Good," was the relieved reply before Petunia gave him her address and their house phone number.

"Alright, thank you, Mrs. Dursley," Remus said politely. To his amusement, Petunia laughed slightly.

"I'm not THAT much older than you, you know."

"I do," the sandy haired man agreed. "Certain niceties should always be observed though."

On the other end of the line, Petunia nodded satisfactorily. "I quite agree. I'm off to buy a few things for the boys."

After listening to the strictly polite farewell, Petunia hung up the phone and crossed an item off her list of things to do and turned her attention to what she needed to acquire.

Item number one on her list was a double stroller. Dudley was becoming much fussier without his normal walk, but she didn't want to be accused of neglecting Harry by not bringing him along. Well, that, and she did not want to lose the only remaining link she had with her sister.

The long necked woman did grimace a bit when she realized just how much this trip was going to cost. Still, there were some things that they simply needed and she couldn't count on all of Harry's things to have survived. At the same time, since she did not herself already have a double stroller; the young mother was at a loss as to how actually go buy the thing. Someone was going to have to watch the children, and she knew very well that asking Vernon to do so would not end well. Not that he had minded watching his own child, but Harry might very well end up behind the couch or in the cupboard under the stairs.

There was no arguing with Vernon when he got an idea into his head. Most of the time, Petunia did not care to anyway. They saw eye to eye on most things, and she preferred to support him as he had always done for her.

Just when she was debating whether to ask the stuffy old matriarch at Number 7 or the greedy teenaged girl who was always trying to get money for shoes or smokes at Number 3 there was a knock on the front door.

At a loss as to what made her family the focus of so much sudden attention, Petunia squinted to try and see through the peep hole before slowly opening the door, Dudley now resting on her hip.

"Have we met?"


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Reviews are love. Just for you, a longer chapter.

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Chapter 3

Petunia Dursley nee Evans was currently one very stressed housewife, and it seemed whoever it was up there that monitored affairs on earth was being particularly harsh on her of late. Really, a person can only handle a certain amount of shocks in a certain time frame.

Currently, she was staring at a middle aged woman whose appearance all but screamed spinster. She was wearing tartan carpet slippers of all things and had there had clearly been a liberal amount of cat hair shed on her clothes.

"Oh, dear, so sorry about that. Of course you wouldn't remember me," the woman said absentmindedly, not seeming to notice Petunia's impatience. "The name's Arabella Figg, dearie. I live just two streets over, Wisteria Walk. Moved in just a little while ago, to tell you the truth, and I – "

She cut off, finally noticing Dudley, and started cooing. "Oh, isn't he precious! Don't you love children? So sorry, I've just been meaning to thank you for that lovely fruitcake you gave me at my open house."

Dimly, Petunia did recall getting rid of Marge's annual fruitcake this year by giving it away to someone. In her opinion, they were better used as hammers or dog toys than food, but if it took someone malicious to enjoy making a fruitcake, it stood to reason it took someone eccentric to actually enjoy having one.

Returning her attention to the present, she gave this woman her best smile.

"You are completely welcome of course. This is my wonderful son, Dudley. Do you have any of your own?" She preened slightly at the attention as Dudley gave the strange woman a particularly clueless smile.

The Figg woman shuffled her feet slightly, "Can't have any you know. Even if I could, lost my husband to that war."

No matter what else might be said of Petunia Dursley, she was a shrewd woman. While she was not positive what war her neighbor was talking about or even how old she was, it was blatantly obvious that the woman adored children. For once, here was an unexpected call that was to her benefit.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said politely, actually managing to include a bit of regret in her voice. "But you know, if you enjoy children that much, and of course, if it wouldn't be too much of a burden on you, it would be lovely if you could watch the boys for me every once in a while."

"The boys?" Her visitor visibly perked up at this. "Oh two children! Just think of what Sassy will say…."

"Yes, boys. I've recently acquired guardianship of my nephew. My sister and her husband passed away last night. A… a horrible case of drunk driving and a car crash," she made up on the spot. "Whose Sassy?" she inquired further, her nosy side once again peeking out.

"Why, my tabby cat of course," Arabella Figg smiled up at her, then her expression turned to shock and slight horror as she processed the beginning of Petunia's response. "Oh my, that's… how horrible. You poor dear! How are you holding up?"

Petunia blinked at that. Someone was concerned for her? That was almost touching.

"I'm adjusting as best I can," she replied modestly. "It's been a bit difficult, but we are hoping things will get better. We weren't expecting have to take on another child. They're only a little over a month apart in age you know. We're not sure how many of my nephew's belongings can be retrieved from his old house, and it still has to be filed properly with the government and there are so many errands to run." Petunia hung her head, hoping it would be enough to nudge this woman into taking the bait. It was the truth of course, but she needed this woman to feel compassion for her and to make an offer. Her pride would not allow her to ask a stranger for help, but accepting proffered assistance was another matter.

It only took a few moments for a gleam of satisfaction to enter Petunia's eyes as Mrs. Figg realized her hopes quite satisfactorily.

The days passed, quickly turning into months. Neither of the adult Dursleys was positive if they should feel grateful or worried that they never heard from Pettigrew again. It had taken a discussion with a certain dejected Remus Lupin to learn what had happened. Apparently Pettigrew had been serious when he claimed to be planning to intercept the dangerous criminal Sirius Black. Vernon and Petunia refused to read the wizarding newspaper themselves, moving pictures were not natural outside of a theatre. Add to that how unnerving the movement was and the fact they had no reason to order the paper themselves and thus become inured to its strangeness, they simply listened to their… perhaps ally would be the correct term. As far as Remus knew, Peter had managed to rile Sirius enough into attacking, not caring about the muggle witnesses. Peter had indeed succeeded in drawing the attention of Aurors simply by his placement. Destructive spells in front of Muggles did not just threaten the Statute of Secrecy, it flaunted its disregard as publicly as flag burning. Sirius Black had been taken into custody and was summarily sent to Azkaban. The Ministry apparently had to be seen doing something, although no one actually 'saw', it was all hearsay. No one knew what had happened to one Peter Pettigrew. Theories ran rampant as he never resurfaced, even when the Ministry awarded him the Order of Merlin – Third Class. While there were, admittedly, claimed sightings, Remus acknowledged that the wizarding world was quite like their own that way. Fame turned people's heads and some would say just about anything to get their name in print.

That was in the past now. If one were to look at the Dursley's mantelpiece, they would still see the same picture of a pink beach ball with blonde hair, but now there was an accompanying photo of what appeared to be a blond, peach snowman making a snow angel. He was obviously bundled up which only made the figure's midsection more pronounced. The genuinely happy smile made up for this, and just at the edge of the frame, you could see a smaller hand and just a wisp of messy black hair.

It had actually been around the time that photo was taken that Harry had performed the first case of accidental magic that the Dursleys had witnessed. To their utter horror, Vernon's sister Marjorie had been visiting at the time. Harry and Dudley had been tussling as boys were wont to do. Dudley was a bit more enthusiastic than Harry, but Vernon and Petunia had both noted that their scrawny nephew was more than capable of dodging and was a fairly fast runner, with a good endurance to boot.

Either way, both boys had ended up thoroughly soaked from the snow, hands and cheeks chapped red even through their gloves. The two had been shivering something awful. Marge was, of course, no help. All she could do was bluster about how Dudley was shaping up well and wonder about what caused Harry to be so 'sickly think looking' that apparently did not sit well with her. Petunia had been slightly offended as the woman tried to interrogate her about her family's history. As if she thought Harry was a bulldog whose bloodlines should be examined. Honestly, the nerve! That was her family as well, the woman had no tact.

Vernon had told Marge the same story Petunia had given Arabella Figg. That the Potters had been driving home one night and had been crashed into by a drunk driver. Lily and James had passed quickly, but somehow Harry had managed to survive with just that awful scar. Yet still she kept prying, asking for answers Petunia and Vernon did not even know, such as either of their professions or where they had lived and what had happened to the property.

This exchange occurred with an annoying frequency on Marge's visits. The Dursleys could have concocted some easy answer, a slur to please her, but with what Pettigrew had told them about Harry being a hope for both their worlds – well, suffice it to say they had mutually agreed not to lie harmfully about him. This did not make it any easier to sit through for two impatient and uncomfortable boys. Petunia had been making hot chocolate for the two when Marge had snapped a comment about Harry being a weakling and coddling Dudley since he was sniffling. It wasn't that Marge hated her brother's nephew. It was simply that she had no reason to like him. Something about Harry just seemed odd to her, and since she did not know why she got that feeling, his presence irked her.

As all of this was going on and time stretched on, it became clear to both boys that neither was going to be getting that lovely hot chocolate if someone didn't placate the woman soon. Marge had been glaring with her squinty, piggy eyes at 'the runt' and Petunia looking to the heavens for intercession when Harry tilted his head, eyes clearly focused on the two cups of hot chocolate and simply said 'please'.

Needless to say, everyone was astonished when the two cups zoomed to Harry before hovering in front of his eyes. Startled, Harry had accepted the cups and cautiously handed the larger cup to his cousin and poked his own. The three year old stared up at his aunt cautiously and clearly lost.

"Aunt 'Tunia?"

Marge was spluttering. "What kind of abomination are you raising? Is this some kind of sick joke?" She was all but shrieking, much to Petunia's displeasure, no doubt hoping the walls were thick enough that the neighbors wouldn't hear a disturbance and question her about it later. As much as she liked gossip, she loathed being the subject.

Vernon, of all people, was the one to intercede.

"Now Marge, I'm sure there's some sort of explanation…."

Marge rounded on her brother then. "Don't you dare try to insinuate I'm drunk. I've only had two glasses tonight and you know how well I hold my liquor."

That is to say, not at all, Petunia thought rather spitefully. She was amused to note that while Harry was looking startled, Dudley had braved the flying cup and was currently sipping at his hot chocolate. Giving her nephew a nod she turned to her sister-in-law as well.

"I'm sure he wasn't implying that. But maybe there is an explanation."

Where was Remus or Peter when they needed them? She wasn't even sure if they were allowed to tell anyone else about magic. Lily had always said it was to be treated as the utmost secret. That wizarding boy they had met growing up had been reluctant to even talk with Petunia around and she was Lily's sister. Deciding to err on the side of caution, she looked determinedly to her husband who took control of the situation. Vernon quickly steered his sister out of the room with the ease of long practice and eventually left her to draw her own conclusions, but at least she was calm. Vernon knew that Marge was not going to let this go. His sister was quite like the bulldogs she raised that way. He just hoped that when she came with her own, no doubt wild, theory that they would have a decent explanation or excuse of their own. No need to get anymore of that lot involved with his family than necessary.

It took very little time to secure a meeting with Remus Lupin. The Dursleys chose to leave the boys at Mrs. Figg's house, wanting a guardian around and not trusting the two three year olds to remain occupied in their own room. As much as Dudley and Harry both complained about how boring it was to stare at pictures of cats, neither adult wanted to bring the children along when they were discussing something so important. Not to mention the fact they were still uneasy about it all. Vernon Dursley took his job to protect his family very seriously though. While Harry was not directly family, protecting Harry directly served to protect his family, and that made everything okay. Petunia was edgy around magic, but that did not mean she wouldn't do what was necessary.

And so there they were, at a little café in downtown London, hoping for answers. Answers they were grateful to accept, even in the form of someone they would rather have a phone's distance between. Despite Peter's assurance that magic wasn't 'catching', being near a man who had been friends with those who had tormented her growing up stretched Petunia's – and through her, Vernon's – trust to the limit.

They managed to walk away from that meeting still confused but with the feeling something important had been accomplished. It had been mutually agreed to just let Marge have her theories. With any luck, she might even let it go as a trick of the light or even a funny dream.

They had also decided to have a sit down with the boys. While Peter's warning that Harry needed to be in touch with his magic had led them to the conclusion they shouldn't punish Harry and allow him to believe his magic in and of itself was wrong, they did not want him to just go around performing magic as he saw fit. Remus had explained it wasn't very controlled at his age, but best start somewhere. Reinforcement ought to do something to minimize the rubbish those gossipmongers would come up with (Petunia excused herself from this group of course).

Vernon and Petunia arrived at Mrs. Figg's house to find the woman having a conversation with a cat.

"Mad, that one is," Vernon and mumbled to his wife before striding to the living room where, predictably, he found his son in front of the telly. His nephew was a bit preoccupied edging away from one of the lady's cats – and just how many did she have anyway? Clearing his throat, Vernon made it known to the boys that it was time to leave. Dudley seemed a bit put out until he realized the channel had gone to commercial, and Harry seemed rather grateful.

Chuckling to himself, Vernon ushered the two boys outside where they joined Petunia – who had finished thanking Arabella – before driving home.

Time continued to pass as it always has. The boys grew and Petunia began to teach them their letters and numbers. She had also started to have both boys help out around the house, simple things for the most part, such as fetching the right foods from the pantry or putting all of their toys away. Vernon and Petunia had been debating whether or not to give the boys their own room so that there would be a sense of responsibility directly applied to each. At the moment, Harry and Dudley were sleeping together in a bunk bed (Harry had the top because he was nimblest and Dudley was leery of falling). Neither of the boys had complained as of yet though, so it was decided to let matters rest.

Dudley had acquired quite the range of toys and books by this time. He was bored for the most part with the books, although he liked looking at the pictures. Harry seemed more interested in them, and Vernon had even seen his nephew trying to read it out loud. He had been angry at first that a child they had taken in out of the goodness of their hearts was stealing from his son – until he saw said son listening raptly, his attention firmly on the pages. This was the week he and Petunia had grounded Dudley from the telly or the computer since he had knocked it over in a petulant fit for some reason. Now that he knew Harry was just trying to keep Dudley entertained, well, he decided to mention it to Pet and see if they couldn't get some more books Dudley would enjoy hearing about. He thought dinosaurs or comics or cars would be good starting points. Harry had been reading "The Little Engine that Could", and Vernon – while not a man who thought much of intellect – did recognize that certain manly things were good influences.

Every once in a while, Petunia and Vernon would wonder why Harry never received any gifts or well wishes. Given that he was supposedly famous in _that_ world, they had at the least expected some sort of outpour on Halloween. Not that they were not happy to get out of dealing with those flying pigeons that _they_ used, but it didn't quite sit well with them. Dudley wasn't the most sharing boy, save for books since Harry was picking up the arduous task of reading faster and he enjoyed all forms of entertainment that did not require to work. Yet it was Dudley who received gifts regularly not all from them, and more each year it seemed like. While the Dursleys were receiving a stipend from the government to assist in raising Harry (thanks to small favors like Lily having given birth to him in a normal hospital with a then perfectly accurate birth certificate), the fact was money was still stretched a bit thin. This wasn't to say the Dursleys neglected Harry in any way, but the boy never did say what he liked. He would talk about flying motorcycles and brooms and several other unnatural things, but nothing they could get their hands on.

Harry was satisfied enough for now with some toy knight figures Dudley had cast away and with sharing Dudley's books. He had some toys from when he was small, and whenever he visited Remus (something the Dursleys had reluctantly allowed when it was decided a 'magic' atmosphere to contrast with their normal one might help to calm his accidental magic impulses) he was allowed to play with his stranger toys. Toys like a dragon that would beat its wings and crane its neck back and forth and a large, plush golden sphere with wings Remus had once said was called a snitch. Every once in a while, Petunia or Vernon or Dudley would catch Harry zooming around their kitchen and pretending to fly on their broom handle, but no one said anything. Petunia, because she could remember doing the same thing with her friends when she was younger before she had discovered magic was real and not a silly fantasy. Vernon said nothing because he could care less as long as Harry waited to do so until after he had finished sweeping and the boy wasn't actually levitating. Dudley didn't say anything because the one time he had pushed his cousin about it, Harry had refused to read to him until he apologized.

The summer both boys turned four would mark a change in the nice, organized life of the Dursley household. Not because Vernon got promoted, although he did, and not because Petunia was finally accepted among the quibbling backstabbing women of Privet drive, although she was, and not even because Dudley's attention was, for once in his life, completely enraptured by something other than TV programming when the telly was on, although, of course, he was. It did, however, have very much to do with the fact that two weeks after they had celebrated Dudley's birthday a man that only seemed slightly familiar approached the door to Number 4, Privet Drive and rang the bell, calm as you please.

He was a man that brought new meaning to the term short and stout. There was a haunted look in his eyes, and for all the fact it was clear he wasn't very far into his twenties, he was partially bald and had the haggard expression of someone who had experienced true horrors. Not very different from the expression one Remus Lupin bore, come to think of it. There were a few laugh lines, and he definitely did not exude any threatening presence, but the wickedly sharp metal hook that extruded from his right hand did keep most curious busybodies at a healthy distance.

The man had arrived around dusk, just after dinner time and was loaded down with packages and letters that he was currently keeping in duffel bags and under water proof covers to protect them from the near constant rain.

As surprised as the Dursleys were to have a caller at this hour, their visitor was just as surprised when he saw two very small boys peeking through the window to see who he was. The door was actually answered by the gruff and mildly hostile man of the house.

"Hello, Dursley," the stranger said politely. "Do you mind if I come in?"

Vernon squinted his eyes in what was meant to be a threatening way at the stranger. His chest was puffed out now in an attempt (an unnecessary attempt I might add) to appear larger and more dangerous.

"I don't know who gave you the idea, but this is a home, not a motel, sir. And just how do you know my name?" He said distrustfully.

The man left outside sighed a bit. "I understand it's been a while, Dursley. I never meant to be gone for this long, especially not for years. But what with this – "he lifted his hooked arm, "and some chaotic repercussions with my…," he trailed off, wincing a little, "I realize this isn't the best place to discuss this. The last time we talked was November 1st, 1980 and we talked about several sensitive subjects before I vanished, as it were, from society."

Vernon's eyes widened, as did the two boys who were nearby eavesdropping. He stepped back, letting Pettigrew in after scanning his face and noting the rat-like similarities he had somehow missed before.

"Pet, we have a visitor!" He announced calmly, closing and locking the door after the man had come in. Knowing his wife well, he also secured the blinds. Since it was night time, it even made sense to do so, an unexpected boon in Petunia's mind.

"Boys, go to your room. Now, and no dawdling." Vernon ordered abruptly. The four year old and almost four year old both pouted but nevertheless obeyed.

"Who is it, dear?" Petunia queried as she made her way to the foyer. When her gaze fell upon Peter, she grew pale. "Well this is a surprise." Noting the bags as well as the hook, she looked to Vernon then Pettigrew.

Peter looked a bit pleased that Petunia recognized him at least. He waited until the two boys had trooped upstairs and he could hear the door click shut before saying anything.

As one, the three turned to each other. Or rather, Petunia and Vernon turned to Pettigrew and a slightly nervous Peter was looking between both of them.

"Perhaps we should sit down?" He offered tentatively, not quite sure how to begin.

Exchanging a look with her husband, Petunia nodded, and turned on a bit of her 'gracious hostess' mode.

"An excellent suggestion, let's move to the living room, shall we?"

Petunia prepared some tea while Vernon and Pettigrew sat rather stiffly across from one another. After asking Pettigrew how he liked his tea and passing a cup of tea to him as well as her husband, Petunia sat down daintily on the couch next to Vernon and blew some of the steam off her own hot cup.

"Now," she said pleasantly, "If it isn't too presumptuous of me, I do wonder where you've been. I thought you said you wanted to be part of Harold's life. To help him, yet we have all been under the impression you were quite probably dead."

Peter sighed at this, setting his cup down on the saucer Petunia had provided.

"I see you have at least gotten in touch with Remus. I had hoped as much. Let me tell you a story then, one I have yet to tell him, even though he is my last remaining true friend. I think as Harry's guardians you are owed the truth first.

"I found Sirius that day. I don't know what provoked me to do something so foolhardy, normally that's Sirius' specialty. It was just like… there was a fire lit inside me and I knew that I had to do something! As much as I care for Remus, he would have been more concerned with questions like 'Why did you do it?" and 'How could you?'. I didn't care about any of that, it didn't matter. I just wanted to give him what for, and make sure he got justice for what he had done."

Peter shook his head at his own folly, taking a sip of tea shortly after.

"I was shaking the whole time, scared out of my wits but furiously angry just the same. I kept taunting him and I yelled at him, asking how he could betray James and Lily. Eventually, he snapped and threw some sort of curse at me." He paused thoughtfully. "I'm still not sure what it was, but it struck my wand hand and completely obliterated both my hand and my wand before exploding the street around us.

"The Aurors came, but not after at least thirteen people were killed from the blast. It was awful. I couldn't figure out why he would do something so foolish except, well… Sirius was often harebrained in his tactics. Whatever he had used, I was bleeding severely, and all that was left of my wand hand was a finger, and THAT was lying on the ground.

"I got away in the confusion. Or I thought I had, ran smack dab into someone from the Order – the group I told you about back then that fought against the Dark Lord. He got me to safety, and a bit of healing, however outdated. I would have called or come to visit before, but my magic was wild. Any technology around me died and my magic saw most other magics as a threat to my own, so it was slow going. I came as soon as I was able though."

He perked up suddenly, "And I brought some of Harry's fan mail. Or rather, his presents as well as some I and a few members of the Order had bought. I hope that's alright, only his birthday is coming up, and I thought it might be okay."

Petunia and Vernon were gob smacked at this story, and thus, it was only Peter who was left to pretend he hadn't heard to boyish squeals at the top of the staircase from their listeners.

"I've got presents?" Harry whispered excitedly to his cousin. "Awesome, then I don't have to share with you anymore, 'cept for books and stuff and we can both play at the same time!"

Dudley was looking pleased as well, although a bit confused.

"Why would a fan want to give you mail? How could they, the things don't even move, Harry. Well, they do, but only in a circle."

"You think maybe we heard wrong?"

Dudley thought about this for a bit, which was not quite as much hard work as it would have been had he grown up focusing his attention on loathing Harry instead of actually talking to him.

"Yeah, that must've been it. It's pretty hard to make out anything from the living room up here anyway."

Hearing one of the adults stand up – probably Uncle Vernon, Harry guessed from the sound – the two scrambled back to their room, chatting excitedly as they did so. Neither felt any guilt whatsoever from having listened in. If they weren't meant to hear it, well, it wasn't their fault the adults talked so loudly. Besides, as Harry had once put it to his cousin, they were told to go to there room, not how long they had to stay there.

Both were still young enough that there was no 'normal' view of reality to them. While Harry did visit Remus and was occasionally accompanied by Dudley (when his parents were busy and he begged them not to make him go to Figg's), they both thought that the magical things they had seen all had some explanation. Batteries or sensors or something along those lines, perhaps. Even when Harry performed accidental magic, he did not think it was actually _him_ causing the strange things to happen. Harry only looked at them as bizarre occurrences that quickly faded out of memory, unless of course, his aunt or uncle were around in which case there was a warning glance and he was steered to some other activity immediately. That or he was sent to Mr. Lupin's house.

The time was coming soon when Harry and Dudley would learn the truth, but for now, they settled in while Harry pulled out his toy knights and Dudley his army men and they began to dictate and play out an epic battle on the carpet of their shared bedroom.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: All I can say is thanks for all the reviews! I really appreciate them, because they are great for inspiration, and for telling me what areas to focus on. Now, taking into account what has been requested to see…. On with the story! I hope it is to your satisfaction. I'm sorry it's so much later than the others, but it's also a bit longer, so that counts for something, right? It actually got so long I ended up cutting it in half, so hopefully chapter 5 comes out faster than this one.

Chapter 4

As it turns out, the boys had rather fortuitous timing on their innocent act, because Vernon had stood up at that moment. Mind you, it was partially for emphasis, as he was being a bit demonstratively supportive of Petunia's condition that any magical items had to be opened and stored at Lupin's flat. This condition was something Peter easily agreed to, but at Vernon's heart, he was a rather dramatic man. That was why he enjoyed yelling at his inferiors so much. One of the reasons anyway, a possible secondary reason was that it was stress relieving and simply fun.

However, the reason it was so well timed was that, given Vernon's girth, he made quite a bit of noise getting up. Just enough, in fact, to Petunia's rather sharp ears from picking up on the sound of their whispering or their door squeaking closed.

Once Vernon had sat back down, Peter glanced up towards the ceiling, then back to his hosts.

"Would you prefer Harry to have his 'normal' presents now or later? I know it isn't technically his birthday yet, but…." He trailed off and shrugged.

"Traditionally, one does not open birthday presents until their actual birthday," Vernon pointed out, in the manner one would use when dealing with someone particularly dim-witted.

Peter, however, just kept a small smile on his face.

"I only thought you might appreciate having the packages out of your way, and that you might be busy on his actual birthday. That and I really would like to spend time with him while I'm here, without being too awkward if that's alright."

Vernon and Petunia exchanged looks at this.

"Your sister Marge is supposed to be coming to visit in a few days," Petunia began slowly. "Perhaps, after last time, it might be best for Harry to have some normal toys to play with at Mrs. Figgs. I know neither of the boys is particularly fond of going there, but Lupin already tried and failed to get time off work during the day."

Vernon huffed at the reminder, his bushy mustache convulsing slightly, before he conceded to his wife.

"From what Duddykins tells us of that woman, she went spare a long time ago. I wouldn't wish that on the boy – certainly not on the lad's birthday. Alright then, Pet."

Peter beamed at this.

"Excellent, as I only brought the nonmagical presents with me and it would have been a shame to carry them all the way back to my flat."

Petunia smirked slightly at this, apparently appreciating the trace of humor.

"Shall I go get the boys then?" The woman queried, but paused when she saw Peter tilt his head slightly, angling to listen to the sounds of laughter coming from upstairs.

"Actually, I'd like to do the honors. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to tell which room they're in," Peter offered with a bit of amusement, brightening further when Petunia nodded her approval.

"Excellent, we'll be down in a jiff."

With an oddly cheery smile for someone with such a rat like expression (it would take a little while to get used to that), Peter headed upstairs, knocking on the young boys' door before letting it push open. Upon surveying the scene, he smiled again.

"Out vanquishing foes?"

Harry, who had been in the middle of launching another attack against Dudley's pieces, paused and stared up at the strange man with an expression of incredulity. Barely noticing the knight that had slipped halfway between his cousin's fingers, Dudley turned to the man at the door. His eyes fell upon the man's hook, which disturbed him to no end, but managed to pull up enough bluster to shoot back.

"We could vanquish you too, you know."

This announcement made, he turned back to Harry and quietly muttered, "Whatever vanquished means."

"No idea… sounds like it's fun to do though," was his conspirator's reply.

"Ah, but I am sure your heraldic color is superior to mine own. It is no wonder you would succeed," Peter said cryptically. "Your parents sent me up here to bring you down to the living room."

"Alright," Harry said reluctantly, speaking for his cousin as well as they started to sweep their toy figures up to put them away.

"Who are you anyway?" Dudley asked slowly. "And how do you know Harry?"

Pettigrew raised an eyebrow at this. "What makes you think I know Harry?"

"We aren't stupid you know," Harry accused, eyes narrowing slightly – an effect that was ruined given he was not quite four. "You said you hadn't spoken to Uncle Vernon since the day I was left here. And if you knew Dudley, we would have seen you before."

"And if you didn't know one of us, Mum and Dad would never have let you up here!" Dudley finished triumphantly.

The stranger appeared pleased at their reasoning and nodded his agreement at this.

"True enough. Suffice it to say, Harry, that I was a friend of your father's. Due to a certain event I haven't been around very much," he gestured slightly with his hooked hand, "but I hope that will change."

"Alright, let's go downstairs and see what Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon want."

With that, Harry led the way out of the room, slowing only to let his cousin beat him to the stairs. Dudley always did like thundering down them as fast as he could, a source of endless amusement for both of them.

Finally, all three were back in the living room. Two young faces turned immediately to their guardians, open and full of curiousity.

"You wanted to see us?"

"Harry, I'd like to introduce you to Peter Pettigrew," Vernon said gruffly. "He helped us get in contact with Remus Lupin when you were first left with us. Also the one who told us about your parents' death."

Harry's eyes widened slightly at this, not having realized that when the man said he was friends with his dad – that he meant _that_ close.

"Oh, and… why's he here?"

Right at that moment, Dudley poked his cousin, "Look!"

Harry's eyes widened still further as he followed Dudley's pointing.

"I've… I've got presents? But it's not my birthday yet!"

It was his aunt who answered this.

"Yes, well, given the fact Vernon's sister Marge is coming to visit a few days before your birthday…"

Harry frowned at this, remembering how his other 'aunt' had insisted on having a family birthday with her precious Ickle Duddykins – and her reference of placing the proper fear of God into 'that runt' when she left last Christmas. Then she hadn't even had the decency to plan it closer to Dudley's birthday. No, it had to be a few days before his. Mean old woman probably did it on purpose, Harry thought.

Of course, then he realized his aunt was starting to speak again.

"Anyway, we thought you could go to Mrs. Figg's house that day. I know you and Dudley don't enjoy it incredibly much, but I won't have her yelling at you just because she refuses to admit she is sloshed. No, out of sight, out of mind is better in this case."

"Point is boy," Vernon interjected, "Pettigrew here brought some gifts from him and your parents' friends. Back-ordered presents almost, and we figured we'd let you open them now so you could bring some when you went over."

"Really? Oh, thank you, thank you so much!"

Harry was bouncing about so excitedly, it wasn't really clear whom he was thanking at this point. On the other hand, it was at least clear he was effusively grateful – not a bad thing in the least when someone is doing you a favor.

After Harry (and Dudley, who silently decided to chip in, since watching presents get unwrapped wasn't that much fun) had spent a few minutes frantically unwrapping all of the gifts, both boys were properly stunned at what lay before them. It wasn't that there was an overly large amount so much as the diversity.

Harry had received gifts varying from Lincoln Logs, puzzles, a take along tool kit with several plastic tools of different colors and sizes, a xylophone, a combination chess and checkers set, a pair of walkie talkies, a few Tonka trucks, and a red train set (complete with track) with a gold number 7 embossed on the front. He also had some plastic swords and fake pistols and dummy arrows and bows, along with a few matchbox cars, and of all things – an abacus.

From Harry's and Dudley's point of view, the chess and checkers weren't quite as interesting as the weapons and tools. The xylophone was also only passingly interesting at the moment, but they would have to tinker with it to find out. The abacus – not that they knew what it was – was just confusing.

It only took a few moments more for Dudley to get a decidedly mulish expression. Vernon squinted slightly, he and Petunia recognizing the signs, but surprisingly Harry spoke first.

"Is all this really just for me?" There was a puzzled look on his face. "That doesn't really seem fair, Dudley always shares stuff with me. Hey, Dud, you want the train? You're better with the electric stuff than I am."

Immediately, Dudley's expression switched to one of surprise mixed with greed.

"You mean it?"

"Yeah, as long as you'll let me try sometimes. But I mean, I share your stuff already, and I don't mind you sharing mine. But if that's left with me, the poor thing will never get going. 'sides, consider it a late birthday present."

That, and Harry had noticed that after Vernon had seen him reading about trains to Dudley, he started to get more of what he liked – books to read. Perhaps, if he gave Dudley an actual train, things would look up for him as well. Besides, he'd rather just watch the train than make it move. He'd let Dudley explain the 'how' of it after.

Both parents relaxed as the two began divvying up the presents on who had the most priority (something they had already done with Dudley's toys to an extent). Harry got most of them, as Dudley was convinced if Harry had more toys of his own, that his would be borrowed less, but they both got a walkie, and Harry graciously gave his cousin one of his Tonka dump trucks and they agreed to share the Matchbox cars equally (as well as the xylophone and the weird string beaded thing).

When all of this was sorted, the boys were eventually sent up to their room – after Harry and Dudley extracted a promise from Vernon to teach them about the tools they had. They ended up staying out of bed a half hour later than originally intended, given just how much there was to put away.

Peter, meanwhile, had occupied himself by throwing away the wrapping paper and tape while this was all happening. He entered the foyer just as Petunia walked back down the stairs, muttering something about bedrooms as she did so. Vernon, at this point, was belatedly reading the evening edition of the paper, but stopped when he saw his wife.

"Thank you for letting me come by and give Harry some of his gifts," Peter spoke quietly. "I left the magical ones at Remus' place."

Vernon and Petunia only winced slightly at the term 'magic', for the most part at least.

"I'm glad he got some, to tell you the truth," Petunia said a bit primly. "You told us he was a hero, but if such utter silence is how people in your world treat heroes, then I'm glad I'm not part of it. And why would they send normal stuff anyway?"

"First, do you mind if I sit down?" At their acceptance, he chose the place he had when speaking with them earlier that night.

"The normal gifts were purchased by Remus, a few other close friends to James and Lily, and me. They were not told where Harry was living; only that I was going by and I offered to carry any presents. Basically, these specific gifts were not from fans. He almost had another one, for Lily's sake I got in contact with Snivellus... erm, Severus." Peter actually looked ashamed of himself. "That was something Sirius and James called him, it sort of became habit. Didn't hear his real name often enough to remember it, but what we did to him… it wasn't right."

He cleared his throat slightly, and then continued. "Anyway, Snape first wanted nothing to do with him, until I brought Lily up, and then he muttered something about a chemistry set. But I told him he was a little young for that. So he got an abacus instead. Still rather useless to him at the moment, but at least he can't hurt himself as badly with it."

Petunia winced slightly at this, suddenly the abacus held much more worth than before.

"As to why you haven't heard anything from his fans – well, for one, they know he is young and so there wasn't much call to mail him for autographs or anything until recently. Secondly, for most owls to deliver a letter, they need to have some idea of where to go. Now, other owls can find you anyhow, it all depends on their intelligence, but for the most part – even for those smarter owls, they need to have met you. Which… pretty much none of the Wizarding World has. There were quite a few letters and such I found at Godric's Hollow – the Potter's last known residence. That's how I found the fan mail. Chucked the letters into a storage bin, put the flowers on Lily and James' grave, and I brought all the gifts with something worthwhile in them to Remus'."

"I guess that makes sense," Petunia said slowly, processing all the information.

"If you don't mind me asking though," Peter said tentatively, "How do you two like Remus? I caught that you get along well enough to let Harrikins and Dudley visit occasionally, but not the whole story."

"Didn't quite like him at first," Vernon answered honestly enough. "Still, he was polite and helpful. Pet had to convince me to give him a shot when he called and said he had found some things for Harry, but I'm glad she did now."

Petunia nodded firmly. "Yes, apparently he convinced your mother to lend us a perfectly good crib she had in storage. She'd bought it on the hopes that you and… Emmeline I think the name was? Can't recall – either way, she had hopes for grandchildren, but Remus convinced her this was a more immediate cause. He also found some teething rings soaked in some sort of… "

"Numbing potion?" Peter asked incredulously, beyond stunned that she had even considered using it.

"That's it. I didn't want anything to do with it at first, but poor Duddlykins, he just had the most awful teething stage. Nothing could calm him down. I told Vernon I'd try it once since no other method was working, and he quieted down in moments. Used them on both of the boys.

"Anyway, those potions of yours are just adding ingredients and such in the right way. Just a fancier version of chemistry, really, we think. So some ingredients have to be picked by one of your kind or what have you, it wasn't like it was going to do anything other than numb the area. Like a topical anesthesiac, I told Vernon. Only we didn't have to get the expensive normal version."

"Did… did he find anything else?" Peter asked slowly, wishing he had thought to check himself.

"Not much survived Halloween. There were some partially burned blocks he repainted and gave us, and he found Harry's birth certificate and a few books on parenting – one which mentions dealing with accidental magic – that was rather helpful. He said some had been borrowed from the Weasels or some family, but he gave us the other two. They'd been in a safe downstairs and survived in tact."

After Petunia finished speaking, Vernon added the few that Petunia had missed.

"Of course, he also found some freakish bubble mower. The thing was – I think the term Lupin used was charmed – so that when you pushed it, it would pick up dirt or grass or whatever and turn it into multicolored bubbles that float over the room and outside. We told him he had to keep all the unnatural stuff at his place."

"He did find some pictures too, though, Pet. That was good of him. Boy's gonna want to know what his other family looked like eventually. We've got a few of Lily and Pet's parents, but it's good he has both sides."

"I'm glad then," was all a stunned Peter Pettigrew could get out.

The three spent some more time talking, and eventually it was agreed that Peter would stay over for the night in the guest room so they could make the trip to Remus' together. Petunia checked on the boys one last time before slowly, all the lights on Number 4 Privet Drive clicked out.

The next morning, two approximately four year old boys woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs. After washing their face, hands, and teeth they tumbled down the stairs, still in their pajamas.

Both were rather surprised to see the man from last night (who had said his name was Peter but looked more like Hook) setting the table while Petunia cooked breakfast.

Uncle Vernon chose just that moment to walk in the kitchen – a tall glass of orange juice in one hand and the newspaper in another.

"Morning Pet." Kissing her cheek absentmindedly as always, he nodded to the others.

"And how did you sleep, Dudley?"

"Pretty good. Dreamt about trains."

"Excited I see," Vernon chuckled slightly. "Harry, that was very good of you to give your cousin a gift, particularly one of the nicer ones."

Harry shrugged bashfully at the praise, not used to hearing it from his uncle.

"Did you sleep well, Uncle Vernon?"

"I did, I did. And you?"

"Umn, not so great. There was a funny green light like my eyes and this awful high pitched laughter. Til Dudley started snoring. Drowned it right out."

While his cousin loudly demanded that he take back the accusation, Vernon's mustache twitched ever so slightly. The man wasn't quite sure why he had enquired after Harry this morning. Possibly, he was just in an overly good mood after last night. The look of delight in both boys faces at the tools, and their obvious interest made him hope that his son might follow in his footsteps successfully.

It also didn't hurt of course that Harry and Dudley had been growing closer and closer ever since Harry took on the role of Dudley's storyteller. The boy had even helped encourage Dudders to read. And while Vernon thought the concept of education just for the sake of learning was a bit of namby pamby nonsense, he could not and did not deny that education itself, especially in the basics, was necessary.

Just so long as Harry didn't seem inclined to push his Dudders into a sissy boy, reading books and hiding away from society, he could care less really.

That didn't make the boys dreams any less disturbing. He had mentioned it to Lupin once, who had gotten a thoughtful look on his face before whispering that he might actually remember the night his parents were killed.

Now, Vernon did not like magic. He was alright with skirting around it when it was beneficial to him or his family, but the principle itself still made him uneasy. Harry was magical, and so in another set of circumstances, he would have feared the boy and all but hated him for it. As it was, he felt almost sorry for the boy, having to relive such a horrifying experience at night. At least it was vague enough that the boy didn't have the screaming fits he did when they first got him.

Deciding to avert the subject, he vanished back behind his paper as his wife served breakfast. Eventually, the atmosphere went back to its previous easy nature, with Dudley and Harry chatting amongst themselves and a few pointed stares at Peter. Their guest wasn't too bothered with it, and even seemed to expect it, so Vernon and Petunia let this slide.

In fact, it was not until Harry was assisting Petunia clean up the dishes and Dudley had brought in the mail that Vernon spoke again.

"Do you reckon we should go ahead and call Lupin, Pet?"

"Are we going somewhere, Dad?" Dudley asked confused, after he saw his mom agree and start to dial. "Usually, Harry doesn't go see him unless something odd happens or we're going on a trip for something… oh wait, you two aren't shopping for his presents now are you?"

In young Dudley Dursley's mind at the moment, presents were everything.

"No, popkin," Petunia smiled down at her son. "There are simply some… special presents for Harry there, and Mr. Pettigrew here would like to see him."

"Oh…" Dudley's face turned downcast. "Harry, can I have some of these too?"

Harry's looked a little panicked. His aunt and uncle had made it very clear before one visit, that anything that happened at Mr. Lupin's wasn't to involve Dudley, or at least as little as possible. Dudley did come along as well occasionally, but he always shared the less strange items then.

"Erm… if your mum and dad say it's okay, I'm sure we can work out something," Harry compromised.

Petunia sighed, seeing the hopeful look in her son's eyes.

"We'll go and see."

With a cheer, the two boys raced upstairs to their bedroom to get changed. While the adults occupied themselves with something no doubt boring, Harry and Dudley kept a running chatter going as soon as they hit their bedroom.

"What do you think of Mr. Pettigrew, Harry? I mean, he's s'posed to be a friend of your dad's, like Mr. Lupin."

Harry shrugged slightly, not that it was clear given that he was shedding a shirt at the time.

"I dunno. I just hope he isn't like Mrs. Figg. He did seem a bit loopy with that color nonsense last night, but maybe that's something he just thought knights would say."

"Well, I hope he's like Mr. Lupin. He's pretty cool for a bookworm."

Harry laughed at this. "You just say that 'cause he shares his chocolate with you."

"I do not!" Dudley denied, "The chocolate is just one reason he is cool."

Unknown to the two boys, what the adults had actually been discussing was what sort of unnatural gifts the boy had received. When it came to Harry, they accepted the fact that being exposed to magic was helpful to his control, and did not give any detrimental effect to his life or theirs. However, what with Dudley wanting to share now, they were concerned.

Vernon and Petunia relaxed considerably when they were told that for the most part it was candy and books. And while the books were either about or from the point of view of wizards and witches, as books, it also followed they could be considered fiction by Dudley, and were therefore acceptable. The candy, while eccentric, wouldn't do anything other than shock. Peter wasn't positive as to the others, but he assured the worried parents that if anything, it was passive magic and he was sure that exposure wouldn't affect any of them, especially if it was only one time.

With these reassurances, the five bustled into the Dursley's car and a traffic-filled but not too horribly long ride later, pulled up outside of the residence of one Remus Lupin.

The sandy haired man now looked much happier than the day he first learned the Dursleys had Harry. He had greatly enjoyed being able to spend time with 'Prongslet' and was grateful that the Dursleys let him be part of the boy's life.

In point of fact, Remus treasured the days he was able to spend with Harry enough that he had never got around to telling Dumbledore that he was allowed to see the boy. After the Headmaster had warned them all away, he wasn't too keen on testing whether it was just a sense of politeness that arose from the order. He had told one Minerva McGonagall, but only after she had assured him that she would keep the secret. In truth, he had only told his Head of House to resolve her worries about the boy's placement. Remus wasn't sure if the woman had trusted him or not, but he had at least tried.

He had been somewhat surprised when Petunia asked if they could all come over, but pleasantly so. Now, as he watched the family all tumble out of the vehicle, he received another shock. Also welcome but even more incredible to his mind. To say that emotions welled up at the sight of his lost friend would be an egregious understatement, Remus was ecstatic, curious as to what had happened, saddened at the thought it was a run in with a man who was supposed to have been their friend that caused it, and excited to catch up with his fellow Marauder, not to mention watch Prongslet with his presents.

The members of the Dursley household (including Harry) all went inside to give the two friends time to reunite. In this interim, Petunia reminded them to be on their best behavior, since this wasn't their home. While the cousins were not totally keen on this, her incorporation later in her speech of not 'bouncing off the walls' assured them she was only talking about wild behavior, not their usual teasing and horseplay.

Once Remus and Pettigrew came inside, both boys gave their host their full attention, something Remus noted with a chuckle.

"Excited about your presents, Harry?"

The young raven haired boy smiled toothily, nodding rapidly as he did so.

"I'm sure you are. Come over here and see, then."

With that, Remus sat down on a rocking chair and motioned to the collection of gifts. Some – no doubt the fan sent – were already open of their wrappings. There were piles of chocolate frogs, sugar quills, and Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans all inside a standard pewter cauldron (that Harry thought was a strange, but great Halloween prop). There were also some wrapped presents that, when opened turned out to be books, including _The Tales of Beedle the Bard _and _The Adventures of Marvin Miggs: The Mad Muggle_.

Dudley soon joined Harry in the perusal of the gifts. They were slightly unnerved by the jumping frogs as they both opened their first pack, but when it stilled and didn't start moving again upon being poked, they tried it – to Petunia and Vernon's initial disgruntlement – pronounced it good enough, but the cards seemed more interesting. There was also one other gift – a small pocket mirror that Harry thought must have come from an idiot. He looked to Mr. Lupin, and upon being assured that it had not come from him, was relieved that at least the people he spent time with didn't think he was so girly as to want a mirror of all things.

"You know, that scowl does nothing for your complexion."

Harry yelped, dropping the mirror when it started to actually speak. Before Petunia or Vernon could say anything though, Harry had looked to his cousin and pleaded for him to 'shut the demented recorded mirror up'. Something Dudley was only too happy to do, by marching it to the bathroom and smashing it in the tub of course. Good thing Remus was a wizard, or he might've had to worry about glass in his drain. As it was, well, no one was hurt, and the adult Dursleys were calmed that both their son and the nephew they were raising had been disturbed as they and worked together to take action.

Well, Dudley had taken the action, but that just made them prouder of their son. It was good enough that Harry had recognized that it needed to be destroyed. The boy was magical inherently; there was only so much you could hope from him.

After all the drama had died down, Harry found himself recounting the gifts he had opened the night before for Mr. Lupin. It was not that he intended to brag; merely that Mr. Lupin had always encouraged him and was quite nice and friendly. It was this man who had pushed him to want to learn the reading lessons his aunt had given him.

Harry had been sent over after another strange incident he couldn't explain, and, like always, he was asked what had happened. When he told Mr. Lupin that he had only wanted to be able to sleep but that Dudley's poking him and demanding Harry do something interesting with him since he couldn't watch the telly, but somehow the television had fixed itself temporarily – oddly dying right before they called the mechanic to cancel the trip… well, Harry was given the most marvelous suggestion. To learn to read because books, if you found the right subject, could be marvelously entertaining for both the reader and the audience, and please his Aunt Petunia at the same time. Not that his aunt and uncle had been very upset about the television situation. His uncle at least had commented off hand that it might be more impressive if it were fixed the normal way, but that he thought the fact the telly didn't explode was a good thing. He considered it a small favor, to use his phrasing exactly.

Harry also much preferred Mr. Lupin to Mrs. Figg. Mr. Lupin would tell him sometimes about what his parents were like, what they looked like, who their friends were. He knew that Mr. Lupin wasn't telling him everything. There was something big that his aunt and uncle were keeping from him too, and he was pretty sure it was the same secret. Whenever Harry asked though, he was told that he was too young, and they would tell him more when he was old enough. Harry hoped that four was old enough, maybe five at the oldest. Whatever it was, it seemed incredibly important, and Harry was an extremely curious little boy at heart.

Mr. Lupin also didn't have strange cats that acted like they understood English and stared at him as if they were watching his every move. He had been particularly unnerved one visit by a tabby cat with markings that almost looked like spectacles around its eyes. Whenever Dudley tried to start a game – be it trying to pin Harry or a poke war or even 'I punch you, you punch me', the strange cat had all but growled. It was the oddest thing. It wasn't until Harry had frustratedly told Dudley that they'd have to wait to play something interesting when they were at home that the cat had stopped. And if Harry didn't know better, he would say the feline had looked confused! Whatever the reason, the rest of the stay the cat had just sat still as a statue and stared at him. Pretty uncomfortable, all things considered, and Harry was very glad when his aunt and uncle came to pick them up.

It took some doing, but after quite a bit of wheedling, begging, and even a bit of almost crying on Dudley's part, they were actually allowed to bring the 'unnatural' stuff home, just as long as it stayed in their room. Both Harry and Dudley were elated at this news and they quickly agreed on how to split the candy. Unsurprisingly, after trying a few jelly beans, they gave the remaining unopened boxes to their caregivers.

As the boys were thus occupied, Remus approached Petunia and Vernon, murmuring quietly, "Marge let it go by any miracle?"

Petunia sniffed quietly at this. "As nice as that would be, no. If I didn't know she wasn't a very religious woman, I would fear her trying to exorcise the poor boy."

Vernon's mustache trembled as he began to speak as softly as he could – which wasn't very, but at least it didn't draw the boys' attention.

"Great woman my sister, but when she sets her mind to something, it's set. There's not much to be done to divert her. For a few days, it was almost like she thought it was a dream, and then we started hearing about it from her on the phone or in the mail, whenever she contacted us really."

His wife nodded in agreement, adding conspiratorily, "We've put her off this far saying it was something to discuss in person. Family matters that shouldn't be aired or explained in some interceptable way, you know, but we're going to have to come up with something."

"Do you have any idea what? Telekinesis, perhaps?"

"Tele what?"

"Supposedly there are nonmagicals who claim to be able to move things with their minds. The scientific term for this manifestation is telekinesis. There's quite a bit of skepticism surrounding it, but perhaps if you leave it vague and just as a possibility you suspect but haven't proven for now, it will give her the answer she wants and allow you some peace."

Petunia and Vernon looked to each other, both processing what Remus had suggested.

"Perhaps," Petunia said finally. "We'll hear her theories first, but it would be nice to not have to fret so much about that boy. For the most part, he's pliant enough, and he keeps Dudley busy and even happy, so I don't have anything against him, but…."

"Just say it, Pet. We have better things to do than worry about some mess caused because of an accident a three year old made. Not that we'd ever told him to do otherwise, but he knows better now, and at least it was Marge. She might grumble to us about it, but she wouldn't go spreading it around."

Small favors indeed.

The Dursley family stayed a little while longer before giving their regards to Remus or Mr. Lupin and heading back to the homestead. Peter remained in order to catch up with his remaining best friend. While the car ride was a bit of a silent one, it was also entertaining as each member found themselves inexorably drawn to try the Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans and found that, indeed, they _meant_ every flavour.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Once again, I thank you for your reviews. They make me smile.

Chapter 5:

The twenty fifth day of July began on a bright note for the members of Number 4. This was a good thing as the rest of the day was in question at the moment. Vernon's sister Marjorie was coming over to celebrate her 'precious neffypoo's' fourth birthday. Dudley wasn't overly thrilled about having to spend time with the woman, but at least he would get more presents. This was the thought that got him through the morning. Harry had been quiet and a bit withdrawn, giving Dudley little to do other than watch the telly.

Dudley wasn't the only one to notice this though. Petunia also noted her nephew almost moping as he ate his breakfast. In a way it was exasperating, but it was also a little touching, given that her nephew and son had been inseparable the past few days trying to set up the train track in the room next to their bedroom. It had taken some convincing, but Petunia had allowed them to sway her to use that room not as a second bedroom but as a toy room of sorts for the two boys to share. They did have enough toys now that it was difficult to store in their own room, and they both had frantically argued against splitting up, so it did seem to be the best way.

Today though, the train project had grinded to a halt since Harry was going over to Mrs. Figg's house. Couldn't be helped though, and at least he would be able to take some books or puzzles over to keep him occupied. She had even overheard him considering whether it would be worth it to see if the woman would play checkers with him.

Checking the clock, Petunia managed to bustle Harry into proper clothes and over to Wisteria Walk a good half hour before Marge was scheduled to be picked up from the airport. Better safe than sorry given you never knew when a plane would arrive precisely.

When Vernon returned with his sister, Petunia could only sigh at the discovery Marge had seen fit to bring a bulldog pup with her. It turns out that Marge didn't trust her neighbor's ability to train the pup, and she had grown rather fond of him as well. (Colonel Fubster looked after her dogs and was an alright chap, but training bulldogs can be tricky business). The bulldog was named Ripper for whatever reason; Petunia just hoped that it wasn't for how the dog reacted to furniture. Marge's cryptic comment of the name referring to his budding ability as a guard dog wasn't really reassuring either.

Fortunately for everyone involved, Marge's first words in the door were not to demand an explanation for the long put off question. Unfortunately for Dudley, it was to greet him, and her first action was to throw her arms around the poor boy and almost squeeze the life out of him.

She gave him some expensive gadget Dudley was rather curious to figure out and dumped a dilapidated dictionary on the smaller sofa seat for Harry. At least it wasn't dog biscuits.

Petunia and Vernon managed to avoid the issue at hand until after lunch, which had the unfortunate side effect of Marge being inebriated, but the plus side that Dudley was happily occupied by the television set. It began bluntly and to the point.

"Now, tell me what this is all about. That display of your nephew's has to have some sort of reason. It was downright freakish."

"You want the truth, Marge, we don't understand it either," Vernon told her, taking a deep swig of his wine right after.

Petunia sighed at this before making her own contribution, "We haven't come up with any theory that really makes sense. Obviously he isn't possessed or a devil or any of the more archaic religious implications of that oddity – we go to Church, and the boy uses holy water just as regularly as anyone else. But that doesn't explain what did happen.

"It could be something as bizarre as a ghost, if you believe in such fanciful things." Her disdainful tone made it clear she wa above such petty assumptions. "We had a friend of Harry's father's mention teleka something – what was that word, telekesis? Telekinesis? Anyway it didn't make much sense. Although, I do remember when I was considering studying for a nursing degree… there was a statement about how as humans we only use ten percent of our brain, and debate about what we could do if we could tap in to any of that remaining ninety percent.

"Now, I don't remember if that was a theory or a fact, but I think it ties into the teleka whatever."

"Which is what, precisely?"

"An odd talent some people have for affecting the normal world with their mind. I don't put much stock into it myself, but right now it's the only theory I've heard that's plausible. Unless you have a better one? Maybe between the three of us, we'll actually figure out what it is."

Finishing her spiel, Petunia monitored the large woman closely before leaning back with a pleased expression. She had noted the hard dangerous look in the woman's piggy eyes fade, and the harshness of her bark had changed from anger to self driven determination.

"Well, that sounds like a load of rubbish. Makes about as much sense as me hallucinating what happened. I'll ask Colonel Fubster. He's a good military man, I'm sure he'll come up with something much more sensible than your telly thingy."

Marge was free to puzzle over the strangeness of her brother's nephew – and mutilate the word telekinesis – all she wished. Not to mention, it gave Marge something to focus on other than criticizing the quality of Petunia's cooking. The woman would no doubt give up eventually since as much as she did not like things not fitting into her nice, orderly little world, she also was not about to suggest a reason unless there was proof behind it. Marge didn't let anyone make a fool of her, not even herself.

No matter what happened, Petunia and her husband hadn't broken any sort of statute of secrecy by telling her themselves, and this would keep her safely occupied for as long as the issue remained in her mind. This could take months, years, or only a week or two, depending on her success rate.

Giving herself a mental pat on the back for a job well done, Petunia sank back into her chair – not to imply that she slouched, for a proper, polite genteel woman does not break the rules of decorum so extravagantly – and simply relaxed throughout the rest of the visit. Vernon guided the conversation from that point forward.

At seven o' clock, Marge left with Vernon, taking with her that odd dog that seemed torn between subservience and inspecting every living thing in sight hostilely. At fifteen past the hour, the no longer temporarily exiled Harry returned, looking quite pleased to be back. Petunia was not particularly surprised that after thanking her, his first act was to see out Dudley and begin comparing notes on each other's days. All she really caught from Harry was something about some strange cat had been more relaxed this time and had sat next to him while he read. It hardly seemed worth bubbling about, but then, he was still a little boy. Logic often missed them at that age.

So instead of commenting at all, she simply announced when dinner would be ready (roughly half an hour after she expected Vernon to return) and left them to their play.

Later that night found the two cousins up in their toy room once more. Only this time, instead of focusing on the train set, they had switched their play to the plastic tool set. Dudley was enjoying hammering almost everything in the room (except for said train set, which Harry just stopped him from smashing). Harry was more preoccupied trying to figure out what each thing was, so it comes as no surprise then, that it was Dudley's actions that drew the attention of his parents.

Vernon was the one who came up to check on the two miscreants as Pet was starting to get a slight headache from all the knocking – Dudley was putting a bit more weight than necessary into his swings.

"What's all this then?" He demanded shortly, squinting into the room.

Dudley paused in mid swing as his father came in and gave a cheerful grin.

"Playing. You wanna join us?"

Harry looked up at this moment and looked towards the doorway hopefully.

"Uncle Vernon, will you tell me which one of these is a drill? Only Dudley and I think it must be the best cause that's what you sell. But we've only figured out the hammer and the screwdriver right now."

He waved the yellow plastic screwdriver in his hand towards Dudley who was currently holding an orange tipped blue handled plastic hammer.

"And we think the red thing is a wrench of some sort, but we're not sure…."

All this left Vernon looking dumbfounded at the door. Clearing his throat, he turned back towards the staircase and announced to Petunia that nothing was wrong before walking into the toy room where the two boys were. He felt pretty important right now as both boys looked to him hopefully. What was that Harry said? They both thought drills must be best. Why? Because of those were the tools he sold! Chuckling to himself and with ego thus inflated by the expression in his son's and nephew's gaze he began his lecture.

"Alright then," he said gruffly. "I guess I did promise to go over these with you. Now this right here," he picked up the red plastic tool Harry had been puzzling over, "is called a monkey wrench."

Needless to say, both cousins actually enjoyed the lesson as Vernon walked them through on the names and the purpose of each of them. Vernon was quite pleased with his son's interest in particular. It was a new experience for the man, actually being able to teach something to the two. And though the lesson did not go completely smoothly, what with the boys fighting occasionally over who could practice with what, the quarrels were fairly easily resolved and attention restored. In Vernon's mind, what he was telling them appeared to be more interesting than their own squabbles, and for once, Vernon's assessment proved to be an accurate one.

Over the course of the next few days, the three men (speaking loosely here) in the Dursley household actually developed a rapport of sorts. Every night after supper had finished and after Harry had assisted with the clean up (since Dudley helped prepare the meals, given his greater interest in food than Harry), they all met in the toy room for at least half an hour. Vernon helped them figure out how to operate the train set, learn to use the walkie talkies, or just regaled them with stories of his prowess at Grunnings while one of the boys built a city from Lincoln Logs and the other tried to knock it down faster than it could be built with the hammer. At first the weapon of choice for city destruction had been the tonka trucks, but that was just too easy, so it could only be brought in for reinforcements if the city got too large. Which, really, only happened once, and that was when the 'destroyer' had become overly distracted with Vernon's story of the night.

After that half hour, Vernon went back downstairs to watch the news with Petunia, leaving the boys to either continue playing or clean up and head to their bedroom. Believe it or not, this did happen occasionally, since like most little children and adults alike, Harry and Dudley easily became bored with the same routine.

It was for this reason that they would occasionally experiment with trying the every flavour beans. Harry even went so far as to start a record of all the flavours they had tried thus far. Albeit it was all but chicken scratch and immensely misspelled, the idea behind it had merit. Enough that Petunia was convinced to help coach them in writing. Dudley was a proponent of this as he and Harry were now competing for the largest number of flavours tasted. Petunia agreed mostly because the thought of her son being viewed as gifted in school was too much to resist.

Along with that, Harry made his stumbling way through "The Tales of Beedle the Bard" as well as the comic book – that he and Dudley both agreed was ridiculous, if somewhat entertaining. The only thing that particular comic inspired in them was a desire to try and wheedle their guardians to let them read real comics, with superheroes and stuff like the Marvel ones.

This routine was broken once more the morning of the 31st. Harry was finally four – a fact that Dudley had been lording over him for a while since he was 'oldest' and therefore 'the boss' according to him. Even more exciting, today was their shared party. Aunt Petunia had invited several boys in the neighborhood to come over, and while she did focus mostly on Dudley she did not neglect Harry either. So while Dudley chose the games, Harry got to pick the food as it was being held on his birthday.

A woman named Yvonne came over early in the morning just after breakfast in order to help Petunia get ready. Yvonne was a friend of Petunia's from high school and knew her well, although she had never really met Lily aside from a brief sight of red hair and green eyes.

The party was to be held outdoors – partially to keep sugared boys from destroying her home and partially because Petunia liked to advertise her 'pride and joy' Dudley as well as how good of a person she was with Harry. Even better, she had an excuse for it that would keep even that snappy woman at Number 7 quiet, Dudley had asked for a water balloon fight. Well, you couldn't hold that inside, now could you? There was also to be musical statues with the assistance of Yvonne's boom box and she and Vernon had at length decided to purchase a piñata for the occasion as well.

Refreshments were fairly simple. Harry had asked for chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and dark cherry jell-o. Petunia had mixed some punch and at Dudley's quiet request, she had added candy floss to the mix. It was a bit extravagant considering how few had been specifically invited, but she knew very well how large of an appetite her son had. Every once in a while she was concerned at Harry's lack of hunger in comparison, and that was why she had plotted to serve his favorite pudding tonight at dinner. It wasn't her precious Duddlykins favorite, but he and Vernon liked it well enough. Besides, if she didn't treat her nephew on his own birthday, well, when could she? This didn't mean she liked him or had fully resolved her issues with his parents and the whole issue of magic, but at the same time… well, he was useful and his presence was growing on her.

Pushing those thoughts aside, she dialed Remus' and reminded him (and through him, Peter) that the party was to be held outdoors. Harry didn't need more trouble 'magic' related, and she wanted Dudley's party to be perfect. Oh… and Harry's too of course.

Once the family had been fed a hearty breakfast of cheese and ham omelots stuffed with green peppers and onions served with orange juice and assorted muffins (from blueberry to chocolate to poppy seed), they split up to their assigned tasks. Petunia had delegated the night before and had brooked no argument from any quarter. For Vernon, it had only taken a slight reminder that this party would make Dudley happy. For the boys, no reinforcement was required.

Harry and Dudley had the, apparently enjoyable, task of filling the water balloons while Vernon hauled out enough chairs for musical statues outdoors and arranged them in an almost circle. In all accuracy, it was closer to an ellipse, but no one required perfect geometry. Yvonne and Petunia set to work on the remaining food preparations and managed to finish just as Vernon finished placing the buffet table outside under an umbrella. The table wasn't fancily decorated, although there was a tablecloth that the two boys had decorated themselves with their own… erm, art. Squiggles and lines for the most part.

Soon enough, the guests began to arrive, not all at once in a swarm, but sedately, almost as if they had happened along. Petunia had seen fit to invite several of the boys that lived on Magnolia Crescent as well as Privet Drive. Harry and Dudley, both curious as to who was coming waited next to Petunia – not quite hiding in her skirts. There was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat, a timid little brown boy who only seemed to gain confidence when his mother left, and a bored looking redhead who had chosen to attend while wearing a jersey and basketball shorts much to his guardian's barely concealed dismay.

All in all, the mix and meet portion of the party was fairly uneventful. They had all met while wandering through the neighborhood at various points before this, but the birthday party was the first 'official' meeting. If it seemed like a strange way to celebrate the birth of two boys by inviting virtual strangers over, consider that many parties for the younger ages are really just as much for the adults as they are for the children beneficiaries.

It wasn't until Rat boy made a disparaging comment about Mr. Lupin that the party became really interesting at all. What ensued was a massive water balloon war in which Dudley and Harry pelted and soundly beat one Piers Polkiss (who had been trying to start a water balloon fight and vastly underestimated his agitation of his opponents). Once the furor calmed down, the other boys and some of the adults – read the Marauders here – joined in the fray and great fun was had by all. It turned out that the once timid boy was named Gordon and the sports enthusiast was named Dennis, or as he introduced himself -Menace. The small group reached a tentative connection at the end of the fight. Not really out of the norm all things considered, many if not most children tend to befriend those in their own neighborhood first simply because that was who they met first.

All hard feelings dissipated when food was served. Petunia had convinced Vernon to grill up some hamburgers and chips. Afterwards, the birthday cake was cut by Yvonne and served by an abashed and still wet Remus Lupin.

There were of course presents for both Dudley and Harry afterwards, which consisted mostly of cars and comics and a few models (Harry had gotten some basic dinosaur wood models and Dudley a more intricate airplane model). Soon enough though, the younger guests were picked up and left amidst waves and 'see you laters'.

After the party clean up was over, or rather, after the four year olds' attention span involving clean up elapsed, Harry and Dudley pulled Mr. Lupin inside to see the other gifts in their toy room for himself. Petunia watched their dash amusedly, and Peter offered to help in the two boys' place while they were gone.

After carefully laying their new things inside the toy room, Dudley excitedly babbled about his train set until Harry dragged Mr. Lupin over to explain the strange beaded object. Dudley, while not pleased to have been interrupted, was curious enough about what the heck the thing was and its purpose that he followed Mr. Lupin over to Harry and what Mr. Lupin soon explained was called an 'abacus'. Both of the boys, one raven haired and one coiffed blonde, listened speculatively as he explained its use in math. Seeing the blank expressions on their faces, he promised to go over it more other time and told them to keep it on hand until then. If nothing else, it wasn't something just anyone had access to, particularly one of that quality. The abacus Harry had been given was made of well treated cherry wood that currently shone, and high quality colored beads and string, not a five pound mostly outdated school instrument.

As enjoyable as the young boys had found their party, all good things must end. With great reluctance they found themselves ushered downstairs back to finish straightening the house to its earlier pristine condition. Dudley was only slightly cheered to find that they were going out to watch a movie after. Harry's mind was more occupied with the mystery of the abacus, his mind not quite grasping what Remus had told them, but determined to figure it out. If there was one thing Harry did not like, it was unsolved mysteries. He liked answers, and he didn't like having to wait for them. Some things he had no choice in – like finding out the Big Secret. The abacus problem had no such restriction; it was only limited by his ability. Well, he'd fix that.

Harry could hear Mr. Pettigrew mention something about a floo address to Mr. Lupin as the two left after giving his aunt and uncle their regards and wishing himself and his cousin a Happy Birthday again. Making a mental note of yet another part of what he though was probably the Big Secret (what sort of thing was a floo anyway?), Harry turned to his aunt with a bright smile and asked if he should get started on the dishes.

Summer passed, and soon another picture found its way to the mantel piece, this time with a small dark haired boy's face and toes showing, bright green eyes grinning. The bulk of the picture was of a blonde boy that had, at the time of the picture, successfully buried the other in sand, and it was the blonde that dominated the picture, although the ease between the two young ones was clear.

September came with a hint of dread that had not been present before. This was the year that the cousins were starting a part time preschool before they entered Infants at the local elementary.

Harry and Dudley were both a little doubtful about the preschool. The only thing it had going for it as far as they could tell was the potential for more stories (a fact Harry pointed out to his cousin with some reluctance). After a bit of musing, the green eyed boy concluded that it was a necessary evil anyway, telling his cousin they wouldn't be little for ever and they might as well learn enough to make sure that anyone dumb enough to look down on them was put properly into his place. Dudley eventually agreed to this, although he seemed happier about the story angle as well as his own realization that they would see other kids their age there. The social interaction was a definite plus, although both were glad they would be coming home at lunch so they wouldn't miss Petunia's cooking.

Sighing together, they spent their last day of freedom sprawled out on the hardwood floor of the kitchen. The storm clouds had gathered thick and fast this morning, and they knew they would be kept inside. Aunt Petunia had brought them sheets of blank paper and markers at Harry's relayed request from himself and Dudley. Until the rain ended, and thus playing outside no longer meant a potential cold in Dudley's mother's mind, they scratched and colored away intent on forming their own comics. If something as ridiculous as the Martin Miggs stuff could get published, then maybe their silly plots – spoken instead of printed – were not so silly after all.

One minor fight over markers later, the boys had split up so they were no longer potentially in each others way or in elbowing room. The quarrel hadn't quite gone to blows and they were at peace now, content to suck on their smuggled Sugar Quills and compete with each other for the most ridiculous (and loudest proclaimed) story.

A/N: I know it's shorter, and I'm sorry, but I really liked that end shot. Don'ts hurt me.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: As always, reviews are love. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 6

The morning milk delivery was late, and matters did not really seem to improve from that point forward. Despite the fact they were not waken substantially earlier than normal, the children of the Dursley household were far grumpier than usual, even if it was difficult to determine given how sleep encrusted their eyes were and groggy their manner. If the adults of Number 4 noticed this however, they quietly chose to say nothing, each focused on their own inner musings.

Vernon eyed the two as he folded the morning paper, laying it flat so Petunia could give him his plate of kippers and eggs, laden with all sorts of fatty goodness. For a moment, he held doubts about sending that boy off with his son and exposing who knew how many other children. He was fairly sure the information of the number of other children in the nursery school was somewhere in the paperwork he and Petunia had skimmed when applying for the boys' admissions to the local nursery school. There were programs for newborns to two and three to five, but he and Petunia had both wanted their son at home, and later, it had seemed safer to keep Harry at home given how unpredictable accidental magic could be.

This year was an exception. The two boys would begin attending primary the fall after their fifth birthdays and Petunia had gradually convinced him that socializing with other children their age before primary officially started would only serve to help them make friends or alliances at the least. If this had been brought up when Harry had first arrived, Vernon would have no doubt vetoed the idea without even a second thought. However, while he would always love his son and favor Dudley more, neither he nor his wife would ever imply that little Harry was a dangerous freak that decent folk shouldn't have to put up with. It had been bad enough listening to his sister's not so veiled suggestions that he just drown Harry in a lake as she did the runts of her dogs' litters. His stomach had churned at that, which was saying something considering how formidable and cast iron his stomach had to be from the large amount of food he stuffed down his maw.

While Vernon would be the first to admit he still wasn't fond of or by any means happy with the idea of magic, he could not hate his nephew. His nephew was not the freak; after all, it had been that Black fellow who was the source of all their troubles. And he had been a freak not because of magic but because of his actions, for it what you do and what you choose that defines you more than anything you are born with, even if the thing you are 'born with' is magic power.

It wasn't just the slow change of heart involving Harry and magic though that made Vernon and Petunia change their mind about nursery school. They were also motivated by how keen both the boys were on learning. Dudley, smart boy that he was, tended to keep his interest only to items that were of immediate interest to him. Learning how to read labels like 'green olives' versus 'green beans' and the like was one way Petunia had employed to teach the boy how to read, but the now legendary Bertie Beans race (Harry had received far too many to get rid of by gifting, and Petunia and Vernon had quietly returned theirs to the play room after tasting mowed grass and lint respectively). Harry and Dudley had been quick studies to reading and writing because of this, and were even starting to pick up numbers past ten in an effort to boast more proudly. All of this, Vernon gladly encouraged, as well as their interests – even Harry's – in more manly things such as trains and tools and the like. He knew Harry was showing signs of being one of those striving scholarly types like Lupin, but he didn't much care. Harry's future wasn't the one he was worried about. His nephew would do just fine in the Wizarding World. Dudley was the one he had to make sure had a future worth growing up and reaching.

Collectively, these changes in thought had led them to apply and fortunately get in to the governmentally funded program at a local nursery school. Harry and Dudley would be attending from nine until noon Monday through Friday. Unlike some of the primaries in the area, now uniform was required, just the registration forms. They had been told to get the children their immunization shots to be safe, a trip that had required an after visit to the ice cream parlor. Still, the boys seemed resigned to the fact they were going as well as excited.

Well, they had before this morning. Of course, if Dudley was anything like himself at that age, Vernon thought with an amused twitch of his mustache, his brain wouldn't be interested in anything other than eating until he was about halfway through. Maybe less, Petunia was a much better cook than his mother had been.

Speaking of Petunia, she had her own thoughts on the subject of the boys and school. While she was going to miss her Dudders and the quiet constant presence of her nephew when he wasn't gallivanting with said son, the three hours with them gone meant she would have more time to do errands that did not involve chatting to Mrs. Figg and subtly finding a way to send one or both of the boys over to her house. This was a definite plus in her opinion.

Even though neither of the children seemed particularly thrilled to be attending class of any sort, even if it was only for three hours and wouldn't be just book work. Frankly, even Harry was put off by the idea of just sitting down and staring at a book all day with no variety. And this was why Petunia thought her plan to send them in this year was a good one. It would allow them time to adjust to the thought of being taught new information from new authority figures as well as provide an arena to develop social and communication skills outside of the family circle.

Of course, it also helped that Petunia knew for a fact that her son and nephew were more excited about attending when they were properly awake. She had set them down the evening before after having both boys clean up their drawings and just before she had to start preparing for supper. On the suggestion of Yvonne and then Remus, she had calmly explained to them what to expect and how to behave and had fielded a few questions from both. When it seemed they were finally calm on the subject, she had dismissed them outside to the now grey but no longer raining outdoors and told them to have fun as long as they did not track any mud into her house.

Now it was the big day, so to speak, and if she didn't know better, they had stayed up late talking rather than miss out on their hours of freedom. Petunia chuckled slightly, she had forgotten that feeling was almost intrinsic in children, not born of actually attending school and finding it boring, but born of the thought of leaving a world in which they knew the rules to one where new ones were enforced upon them by people they knew nothing about.

Harry and Dudley both managed to eat a healthy amount of food, although their ideas of 'healthy amount' diverged. Vernon, as usual, had lumbered off to the car sometime in the middle of breakfast. By the time the other members of the household were finished, several things were clear, most prominent being that Petunia was in a good mood and the universe was against them, because of course it was sunny today, couldn't have been yesterday though for love or money.

When it came time, Petunia ushered the boys to the car, reminded them both to behave and try to do well, but more importantly have fun, reiterated the behave part one last time with a pointed look at Harry, and then dropped them off. As this was their first time going, Petunia walked them inside until they met their minder, where she simply promised to be here at twelve or shortly thereafter to pick them up. She gave Harry a lunch sack for them both just in case she was late to tide them over, made a fuss over Dudley, gave Harry a nod and a bit of a smile, then left them to their own devices. Inside what they thought to be a rather odd building swarming with children playing around but knew to be a school of sorts in disguise.

The minder had brought them to what she said was the threes and fours nursery and asked them to join the other children. There was a little time for mingling and playing before another adult showed up and asked them to all sit in a circle. It was during this process that Dudley shoved Harry out of what he had wanted to be 'his' place. It wasn't meant malevolently, but the move caused him to be both chided by their leader and to be subject to a hurt stare from his cousin who then moved to the other side and sat next to a bespectacled girl. Their teacher, apparently oblivious to this or at least not caring overly much, then began a process many children would come to dread over the years – the introductions. Each child was required to say their name and something about themselves. While a fairly simple process, it wasn't as if many of the names would be remembered immediately anyway. The only one Harry or Dudley recognized was Piers. They weren't sure how to feel about that considering how badly they soaked him the last time they met. Harry didn't care either way as long as he didn't have to talk to Dudley for a while.

The morning passed with some co operational games and a review of letters and numbers to see where everyone was. Harry was relieved to note that he was not the only one somewhat bored by this, although he did enjoy actually knowing what was going on, and some of the songs and games were actually pretty fun.

By playtime, Harry had still not forgiven Dudley – simply because Dudley had not apologized. He looked vaguely uneasy, but also confused as to why Harry was avoiding him – something Harry himself did not understand. Didn't his cousin know by now he didn't like to be pushed around? Weren't they supposed to be friends enough he could at least ask before he took? It wasn't as if Harry had raced to take the spot from his cousin out of spite. It had simply been right there and looked like an alright place to sit down.

Dudley was, typically, oblivious to this, although at the moment he had the excuse of being occupied with something else. Piers Polkiss had approached him and was trying to befriend him again. Something about the way the scrawny boy acted seemed a little off, but Dudley was a rather social creature all things considered, and so he went along with it.

Harry kept mostly to himself, finding a picture book on cars from the bookshelf they had access to, and convinced their teacher to let him borrow it for the day. After promising the man more than once that yes, it would be returned unharmed; he joined another group of kids in the garden, leaving the book inside a cubby with his and his cousin's lunch sack.

All in all, it was not an awful experience, although both cousins would have preferred to be on speaking terms. Still, as first days went, the unluckiness that seemed to fill the air today had not been overly damaging.

Petunia was, however, late picking them up. Both boys understood as she had warned them before driving them over to the nursery that she had a quick errand out of town to do and wasn't positive how the traffic would be. So they sat quietly, eating the lunch she had packed for each of them (sandwiches and apple slices and crisps with a thermos of milk that stayed cold somehow for each). After Harry had his fill, the small boy pulled out his book on cars and began to read.

Well, this certainly caught Dudley's attention. The blonde boy tried to read over Harry's shoulder, but the truth was, Harry was a bit of a faster reader than his cousin. So while Dudley was able to see the pictures and read just enough of the text to be tantalized, Harry was continuously going to the next page before Dudley was done.

In an attempt to rectify this – this book was about cars and therefore Dudley thought he should get to know what it said – he sulked for a few moments before trying to wheedle Harry into reading it to him, or at least letting him see it after. The messy haired boy did not even seem to notice his cousin's existence though, much less acknowledge that his mouth was flapping and words were coming out of it. Dudley was just about to work his way into threatening to pummel his cousin when Harry's head shot up away from the book. At first, Dudley thought he was finally capitulating. That was, until he heard the hissing. Turning towards the sound, the pudgy blonde boy gulped, frozen stiff as his cousin stood up and immediately moved to shield him. Not too far away was an irritated snake that had apparently been interrupted in its basking. A pattern of dark spots ran down its back, but that was the extent Dudley was able to take in because he found his cousin pushing him towards the doors of the nursery and muttering for him to get out of the way, somewhere safe.

Terrified but obliging in this instance, Dudley ran. His first thought was to his own safety, but then immediately, he felt badly. His cousin and put himself directly in the path of danger – who knew what type of snake that was after all – and he had just abandoned him. Well, he'd show Harry. He could be brave too. He could help.

By the time Dudley returned with a teacher however, the snake was no where to be seen. A bored looking Harry informed the teacher that the snake must have found something better to do than threaten two small human children, but thanked him just the same for coming. Giving Dudley a slight nod, he smiled as Petunia chose just that moment to pull up. Harry proceeded to quickly grab both the lunch sack and his cousin and there was a mini race to the car.

Petunia, fortunately for her, did not seem to notice the odd dynamic between her two charges. While she did ask about their day, both only gave her bland details, neither mentioning the near fight nor the snake incident. Dudley did however inform her that it seemed a bit slow as she had already taught them everything they'd heard about thus far, but he had to admit the numbers were a bit trickier. He and Harry had only relatively recently begun getting farther into number counting.

With a smile, the horse necked woman reminded her son that it was the first day and not to judge them too badly. Not everyone was as bright as them after all. She also promised to help them if needed, and while this was mostly directed at Dudley, she took care not to exclude Harry in her phrasing, something that brought a smile to her nephew's face as well.

Later that afternoon found both the boys outside in the backyard at Number 4. Dudley was trying to enjoy himself, dejectedly pushing his Tonka truck around, but the play just was not as fun without his normal partner in crime. Briefly, he considered walking to Piers house and playing with him instead. That was, he considered it until he remembered how Harry had protected him from that snake.

Reluctantly, Dudley made one of the harder decisions of his life and left the truck to go talk to his cousin. Said cousin was certainly lying down in front of the rose bushes, staring up at the clouds while mumbling to himself. Dudley couldn't quite make out what Harry was saying, but assumed he was calling out what shapes he saw. He had played that game with his cousin occasionally when they were tired from running around but not quite ready to go inside. Clearing his throat, Dudley managed to get Harry's attention, although it was a bit guarded.

Taking a deep breath, he stumbled his way through one of the hardest sentences of his life.

"Harry, I… I just want you to know that I'm sorry, and… and I wanted to thank you for what you did back there, y'know. I… I panicked and you just… you just took charge and protected me even after I was a bit of a prat to you. So… so thank you and I hope you can forgive me."

Needless to say, Harry's immediate reaction was to be stunned, but slowly a smile spread across his face.

"Of course, Dud. That's what family's for, right? Friends again?"

With a bright grin, he offered his hand to Dudley who immediately shook it, then laughed, commenting that one of these days they would have to come up with their own secret handshake. Soon, Harry joined in on the laughter and was coaxed into joining Dudley in a new game that took up the rest of the afternoon.

The next day at school while other kids were still getting dropped off by their parents, Dudley hauled his cousin over to meet Piers, or rather, to meet Piers again. The rat faced boy wasn't particularly friendly to Harry, seeing him as competition for Dudley's protection. You see, Piers wanted to make sure that he would be safe from the bullies he had heard existed from his older brother. He had been advised to find the strongest, most confident seeming boy in his group and stick to him like glue. Even after the pelting he had received at the party, Piers knew Dudley was the best candidate. While young and uneducated for the most part, four year olds certainly were not as stupid as some adults tended to believe. Piers wanted to be Dudley's second in command of sorts in the forming hierarchy, but the only way he could become that was if Harry was out of his way. He had hoped the two cousins' behavior yesterday meant he had a shot, but now he was starting to think otherwise.

Not knowing how to react now, but wanting to drive the other small boy off, he sat next to Dudley and asked whether or not Harry was going to go sit next to the four eyes. While he was disappointed when Dudley spoke up first saying his cousin was free to stay here if he wanted, Piers was actually a bit frightened when he noticed Harry's glare and quiet statement that the girl had a name and that was Linda. He then proceeded to motion the girl over to join them and had introduced her to Dudley with a bright smile, only mentioning Piers' name once and with slight disdain.

Piers Polkiss was not the smartest boy, but even he had to wonder if perhaps he had chosen the wrong person to attempt to form an alliance with. Maybe it was Harry he should have befriended. However, not being the smartest boy, he quickly dismissed this thought and continued to act snottily to Harry in small ways throughout the day. Not that Harry even acknowledged it. It was rather aggravating, being ignored so completely.

They ended up having a session on arts and crafts that day, and it was during this period that Polkiss' patience snapped. They were fashioning puppets out of lunch bags using felt and paper and some other nick nacks. While Piers found this rather boring, it was kind of fun to pretend to bite things and talk in funny ways. Somehow during the construction though, Potter managed to get himself almost stabbed with flying scissors (one of the dunces in their group had ignored the warning not to run with them). Potter wasn't hurt of course, but he was a bit shaken. This didn't bother Piers a bit; it was Dudley's apparent concern over him that caused his irritation.

"They need to call your mum and have her kiss it all better, Potter?" He snapped waspishly. "Oh, that's right; you don't have a mum, do you?"

It was a low blow, and a rather stupid one, but he was a four year old boy and thus given to rash and immature decisions.

The mix of anger and sadness on Harry's face would have frightened him if the Williams girl – what had Potter said her name was? Oh yes, Linda – hadn't put a comforting hand on his shoulder and asked him to ignore the stupid boy. This would have emboldened him if Dudley hadn't gotten right up in his face and told him in no uncertain terms to leave his cousin alone.

Now this seemed rather unfair to Piers. After all, Dudley had bothered Harry himself the other day. Pointing this out didn't seem to help him any though, because all Dudley did was snort at him.

"Yeah, and he's my cousin, isn't he? I got a bit of a right to seeing as I live with him. **You** don't. I'm the only one that can mess with him. So you better lay off or else."

Swallowing, Piers managed to gather a bit of either bravery or recklessness to himself and asked, "Or else what?"

Potter and Williams came up behind Dudley and the two boys gave him a rather creepy smile.

"Trust us, Polkiss…," The green eyed boy said with a smirk.

Dudley finished the sentence, "You don't want to know."

Interestingly enough, this incident was relayed to Petunia in the car. While Harry had not been keen on bringing up an almost fight or the snake incident the day before, he was more than happy to bring up his cousin protecting _him_, much to Dudley's embarrassment. Petunia seemed rather pleased with her strong little boy though and even made Dudley's favorite dessert as a reward.

Later that night, a rather confused Harry was finding it impossible to read _The Adventures of Martin Miggs_ because for some reason, the blasted pictures were moving. It was the strangest thing because whenever he read the comic with Dudley, they stayed still like proper pictures should. It just didn't make sense.

Heaving a sigh, he looked around the play room with a bored expression. He didn't want to work on his beans' flavour list, that was no fun if Dudley wasn't there, and while he could read one of the Marvel comics, that was another activity that was better to do with Dudley because he often had to help his cousin pronounce certain words or look up their meanings in the dictionary Marge had given him. It was rather funny how a gift that was meant to be an insult could be so helpful. Harry debated asking his aunt about the pictures, but then remembered how she had reacted when those cups of hot chocolate had come to him at his request. He hadn't meant to do anything of the sort, it was just that he and Dudley had been so cold and it looked so warm and soothing…

That was water under the bridge now of course. Still, he thought it might be best to ask Mr. Lupin instead of his Aunt Petunia. Of course, he supposed he could ask Mr. Pettigrew, but he didn't know his number, and he didn't even know the man that well yet. Mr. Lupin was a bit like an uncle to him and he loved the man dearly for treating him like a son whenever he visited.

The comic book still had him unnerved though, so he turned his attention to something else, rather bored but not quite ready to give up and join Dudley watching the telly until Uncle Vernon came home.

Glancing to the abacus, he fiddled around with the beads a bit, forming different combinations before giving up as it only made a vague sort of sense to him. One of the few things he did retain and understand from Mr. Lupin's attempt at explanation was that there was more than one type, that his was modeled after the Chinese design, but there were several wholly different forms. While this was all well and good, it meant rather little to Harry and so he gave the cause up, heading downstairs and actually prompting Dudley to join him in a friendly wrestling match. A bit of a foolhardy thing to do, but at least it was actually doing something instead of staring blankly at a box.

A few rounds later – all of which Dudley won – the competition had turned into a race that Petunia immediately directed to be held outside. While Dudley dominated the strength department, it was no secret which of the boys was more agile and even though Dudley convinced a few other boys in the neighborhood to join in, he was still the first to make it to Magnolia Crescent and back.

Resting on the front porch, Harry was soon met with some exhausted but rather happy boys. Grinning to his cousin, there was some light teasing before waving the other neighbor kids goodbye and heading inside. Naturally, they had to wash their face and hands (after taking off their dirty shoes before they dirtied the house), but that was alright, they still had adrenaline running through their systems.

The run and wrestling somehow made it to the discussion at dinner. Later, neither Harry nor Dudley were particularly sure why, although Harry thought it was possible Uncle Vernon wanted to know why their faces were red and clothes and hair such a mess. Whatever the case might have been, Vernon started going on about rugby and football and wrestling. He probably mentioned other sports, but later the boys were not able to recall. He mentioned that even though they were little, they could still learn the basics. He puffed up a bit throughout his ramble, pleased to have such a strapping son and to be making a good influence on his nephew. Excelling at athletics was a very manly thing to do, just as much as tinkering with tools was, if not more so.

Harry had the distinct impression that his impulsive move was going to lead to a lot more tiring hours spent exercising, and he was right, but at least for the most part it was fun. The push ups and weights that his Uncle would later order them to do were not his favorite part at al - so naturally they never did it, and even the laps that his Uncle would occasionally join them or time them on wasn't particularly exciting in and of itself.

However, Vernon had caught a glimpse of a possible future for his son as some sort of athletic star. While Dudley had always been outgoing and it was clear he had the ability to throw his weight around, he didn't tend to exert a lot of effort for no reason. To Vernon's mind, racing after his skinny cousin just to beat him back home was no reason. He was pleased enough that Dudley had shown signs of being athletic that he even decided to grace Harry with his coaching skills as well – a fact Harry would not really appreciate until later, but such is the case with most lessons one learns at the tender age of four.

The one thing the exercise did immediately bring to Harry and Dudley was respect. It took a while, but eventually Polkiss had muttered an apology. The rat faced boy was more of a hanger on than an actual part of their band. It was a motley sort of crew that eventually flocked to the two cousins. Linda Williams stayed by Harry's side from the day they met, but later others joined in. None of their minders or teachers ever seemed to mind, because the Potter-Dursley gang did not consist of troublemakers. If anything, they prevented more serious incidents from happening. This was not to say that they were perfectly behaved children, as this is rather impossible to expect. This did also not preclude them from having their own inner tiffs. Most spats tended to be resolved either quietly, in Potter's manner, or after a short competition as Dudley favored. If all else failed, Linda's method was actually the one employed – pranking.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry for the delay, rl isn't always the most accommodating. I also must confess to having suffered a bit of writer's block on this one, but hopefully it turned out fairly well – or at least interesting – just the same. It's short, unfortunately, but if I didn't post something soon, I knew I would lose the nerve to, and I'd hate to disappoint.

Chapter 7

Harry Potter was an extremely smart boy, but more importantly in his life up until now – he was also a fairly lucky one. Lucky that the first accidental magic he performed at the Dursleys that was witnessed was to help both himself and his cousin Dudley (even though the first magic he had performed had been a year before and involved making the mobile on his crib move in a way that rather frightened Dudley for some reason). He was even lucky that his aunt and uncle had given him a chance instead of loathing him on the spot. He was lucky that since Marge was technically family and had not been harmed or been effected directly by his accidental magic that the Obliviators had not removed the memory, which would have probably ruined much of the progress made on his part with the Dursleys. He was lucky Dudley liked being entertained in any form and thus saved himself from being a punching bag.

He was also very lucky that his Aunt Petunia discovered the madness that was Uncle Vernon's plan. While she had nothing against the boys being involved in sports or being athletic, Vernon was not the sort to watch them – leaving them unsupervised with weights and the like – and this only added fuel to her disapproval. She had insisted that four year olds were not old enough to be expected to follow through on his mad schemes. This was, of course, partially due to the fact she had watched and knew they did not, roughhousing in the center of the room while Vernon watched the telly.

Petunia did, however, make it a point to let them watch rugby and football matches, and even found a park nearby with a football field set up. Their Christmas presents from her were a ball and gear to play.

Despite his luck, Harry was still a very bright child, earning high marks for the most part that, while better than his cousin's, didn't spark any resentment. This no doubt had something to do with the fact Dudley's marks were not failing or even just average but something that could be respectively called 'decent'. Dudley, Harry, and Linda dominated their year, and despite the inevitable minor squabbles they held together pretty well. Dudley preferred lording himself over the other boys and stayed away from Linda (because she was a girl and therefore innately boring) but Harry didn't mind. At first, he had only stood up for her because she was being attacked and he just thought it was the right thing to do. When he had discovered just how many fun ideas she had though… well, Harry had decided that since she didn't act all flowery and 'girl' like, he didn't need to treat her like one. This was an arrangement that worked fairly well for all involved.

There were a few things that bothered Harry though. As the weeks and months passed, he noticed more and more of the world around him. While some of the changes made sense – like being able to write more easily and how the reading began to make more sense – other events did not add up in his mind. He had not made any progress on discovering whatever the Secret was, but there were quite enough other little mysteries to capture his attention. Things like Mr. Lupin being sick every month or otherwise incapacitated were things he had originally thought were coincidences, but now saddened him to worry about. If he had thought Mr. Lupin just wanted to be alone, that would have been one thing, but Mr. Lupin had always been open with Harry and his guardians, and he was pretty sure anyway that if he wanted to be alone Mr. Pettigrew wouldn't visit.

He would no longer touch the comic book he had gotten at Mr. Lupin's, preferring the Marvel ones with their normality. The occasional moving pictures unnerved him. Not because they moved, but because he had only seen the panels move when he was alone – it made him doubt his sanity.

Then there were the smaller things. Harry knew know that his dragon was not battery operated. He had inspected the toy quite thoroughly sometime after his fifth birthday and had found no sign of so much as a battery pack. Yet it could not be denied that the little dragon would move. There were other minor incidents; their minder's hair had turned blue just the other day for instance.

Most unnerving and distressing of all was the snake incident. When he had heard the snake snarling about two leggers invading his dominion, Harry and Dudley had both frozen. Originally, it had not occurred to him to question the fact the snake was talking so great was the mixture of fear and adrenaline in that moment. He had told the snake to leave them alone, that they weren't bothering him – a futile gesture in his mind, about the equivalent of 'nice doggie….' Imagine his shock and surprise when the snake had turned, looked at him for a moment, then slithered off saying something along the lines of 'as you wish'.

Now, being a fairly rational child – or at least as rational as he could be at his age – Harry rather thought that he had been imagining things. After all, everyone knows that snakes can't talk. And he certainly could come up with some odd things – flying motorbikes and humans who could turn into dogs.

Unfortunately for Harry's piece of mind, there were still plenty of odd things that he knew to be real. Still, he had tried to put the incident out of his mind, on the whole grateful that it had occurred as he and Dudley had gotten along fairly smashingly ever since. Before, while they had grown up together they were definitely cousins in their treatment of each other. Afterwards, they had grown to something closer to the line of brothers. There are some things that you just cannot go through without coming out the closer for it. To a four year old, a spitting snake was just as frightening as an armed twelve foot mountain troll. At least with the troll, there was bound to be some hope it was a nightmare – and if not, then some fairytales had it that they turned to stone in the sunlight anyway. But what kind of dunce would dream about being attacked by a snake at school when he'd never seen one before? No snake could be subdued by something as minor as a little sunshine either.

A closer friendship between the two boys and the later formation of their gang among their year mates was not the only result of the talking snake. For, as much as Harry wished to deny it, it had taken very little time for more snakes to find him. Barely a week past between each sighting of a snake at first, and although it eventually subsided, he could not refute the fact he was being visited by the creatures. They would come whenever he was out in the garden alone, and they would whisper things to him. Whisper of plans and possibilities, and talk of the earth and the life within her and then they would continue on their way, only staying their departure if he made a response or asked a question.

As the year passed, Harry tried to push all of the oddities out of his mind. He threw himself into football with the encouragement of his guardians and his friends. While Dudley was still keen on learning rugby, and while Harry was even a good enough sport about it to practice with his cousin and watch games, Harry's passion was football. He wasn't great at it – what five year old truly excelled at any sport unless the measurement of the child's play is taken with respect to it's age – but he enjoyed himself immensely, and that was enough for him for the time being. Dudley's interest in the game peaked after discovering its similarity to hockey – a ruthless looking sport he thought might be fun to play as well someday. Football was just the less bloody version with immensely different rules.

Alright, so football and hockey weren't really on the same playing field. To five year old Dudley, they both had goalies and they both involved trying to score with everyone else. The other intricacies mattered little to him. If he could master the concept of football, he could later master the concept of hockey. It was that simple in his mind, and possibly even in truth.

Petunia and Vernon were both rather proud of their charges. A new photograph had been placed on the mantel of a slightly slimmer Dudley attempting to give Harry a noogie after they had won a match of football (not played to regulations, admittedly) that Petunia had arranged amongst Harry and Dudley's gang and the neighborhood children. Dudley was showing promise of being a decent goalie, taking it as a personal offense if a ball got past him. His main problem – other than the obvious lack of experience and the slowly increasing skill – was that he often wanted to punch the ball instead of catching it, a habit that did not always work out in his teams favor.

At this point, the Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans had all been eaten or partially eaten anyway. Harry and Dudley's lists had been quietly picked up by Petunia and stowed away in separate folders she had fondly labeled 'Memories'. In this folder, she also began to store several snapshots of what she was slowly beginning to consider as 'her' children.

This idea of a true claim to Harry had begun slowly, but like most processes had been eclipsed by a certain event or chain of events. For Petunia, the conclusion of this idea formation had come as a bit of a surprise. The five year old Harry had come home from school with her Dudley clutching a sheet of paper, just like her son. Her first thought had been a grade report, but Petunia soon learned that, in fact, was not the case. Instead, they were simply holding their drawings from art class. The teacher had asked them to draw their favorite things to do. For Dudley, this had been his train set with two obviously happy blobby figures in the background (one rather stout and the other tall with a long face). His drawing had also included a figure guiding the train – most probably himself – and a smaller figure to the left side that appeared to be studying a rectangle (er, reading a book).

This in itself was enough to draw some attention. She certainly did not hate her nephew, but she had never thought of his inclusion in the family in such an obvious way before. He was always at her Dudley's side, and despite the rivalry, when it came to either of them being threatened, they would always band together and tended to forget about their differences even after whatever issue was resolved. Staring at her son's picture, she had to admit that she was rather… fond of the boy.

Petunia jerked away from the picture quickly, smiling to her blonde angel and assuring him that she would put it on the fridge at once. It was only after doing so that she turned to her nephew with a slightly pursed look, having forgotten he had a drawing too. Taking it from the suddenly shy boy, she blinked slightly at the crudely drawn scene in front of her.

Harry had drawn what appeared to be himself and Dudley in their football gear, but obviously after a game as it was inside, with the blonde Dudley flourishing a hammer and the dark haired Harry playing with his abacus. He also had drawn figures in the background. There was a thin yellow eyed (probably the closest he could get to amber) man who appeared to be crouching next to Harry, a round bearded figure with a plastic screwdriver in his hand in front of Dudley, and a smiling woman holding flowers in the doorway.

Petunia immediately recognized the scene, remembering how proud Dudley and Harry had been when they gave her... well, they were weeds really, but from their point of view the dandelions had been flowers. Rather than hurt their feelings, and honestly touched by the sentiment given the fact they were boys and tended to avoid any – well – flowery shows of affection, even with her. The only thing Petunia did not understand was why it looked like there was either a snake or a squiggle in Dudley's shadow or why there was a cat that looked awfully like Harry's description of his favorite of the cats that lurked around that crazy old… that is, the well meaning Mrs. Figg.

Later though, Petunia would look back and realize that was the precise moment she began to love Lily's son. She had begun the process of forgiving her little sister long before, the night she had found out the true meaning of betrayal. But it had taken a two simple child's drawings to coax out the complete forgiveness and to open her heart again.

Harry's life had grown better than ever, even including the mysteries and the Secret, save for one thing – Aunt Marge, for multiple reasons.

For one, she never seemed to really let go of the idea that Harry was abnormal, and she certainly never got over calling the small boy a runt. Petunia saw to it that Harry had regular meals and he had access to food whenever he wished for it, just like Dudley. Unlike his cousin, Harry simply did not take the opportunity except for the occasional joining in of tea and biscuits around three on weekends. This was not to say that Harry did not eat at all, simply not in excess, and it appeared what he did eat was put to other uses than growing. His muscles developed, as did Dudley's, from the increasing exercise of football and the play boxing and wrestling and heaven's knows whatever shenanigans the boys got into, but he simply did not grow much taller and certainly no rounder. Marge apparently thought this state to be enormously unhealthy for a growing boy, and this along with her still lingering dislike for him, meant Harry was the recipient of many caustic comments from the woman.

Vernon would later report to his wife that Marge had indeed asked Colonel Fubster about possible reasons for the strange episode she had witnessed. His baffled answer that he expected she was either hallucinating or that one of the boys (Dudley could have done it in reaction to Harry's request after all) had ESP. She had been even further flustered when she discovered that the Colonel had a lovely young bulldog who appeared to be growing into quite a fine specimen. She was only two or three, but Marge reckoned she knew good breeding when she saw it, but for some reason, the Colonel refused to tell her where he came across the dog, saying only she had been given to him.

This was of course, not the crux of the Marge issue for Harry. What she really did was constantly remind him that something fishy was going on. Something strange and decidedly unordinary and something he had yet to figure out. Moreover, while her constant spoiling of Dudley and disregard for Harry continued (lavishing expensive gifts on him and supposedly worthless books like encyclopedias on Harry – which wouldn't help him for a few years and he could actually comprehend them), the balance of the Dursley household was offset every time she visited. This eventually came to a head when she sicced her dog Ripper on the poor lad for accidentally tripping over her rather corpulent form. As if it was Harry's fault she had insisted on far more brandy than she could handle.

The dog took a little encouragement, but Harry soon found himself treed in the backyard. Marge was drunk as a lord at this point and refused to call the dog off. Vernon eventually took it upon himself to knock the dog out after Ripper started growling and debating attacking Dudley as well (who was attempting to help his cousin). Marge was hustled to the guest room and back home safely after an extremely quiet end of her visit. Vernon drove her back alone and returned with a somber but satisfied look on his face.

Oddly enough, one Marge Dursley had not been seen at Number 4 since, although she continued to send post.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

For all intents and purposes, Harry was alone in the house. Not because he had been abandoned, but because his guardians had dropped him off at Mr. Lupin's for his usual visit (a schedule had been devised so they would see each other once a month, if not once a week). Mr. Lupin had been off on an errand, so Harry had let himself in using the hide away key the sandy haired man kept in the third vase on the left of the porch. While Harry had never been officially shown the key's hidey-hole, he had seen Mr. Lupin fish it out on several occasions. He also knew that his aunt would have waited until Mr. Lupin came home if he didn't let himself in to a more secure spot, and he would really rather not keep her waiting, people tended to get a tad grouchy when things like that happened. Besides, sitting out and waiting on the porch or in the car was just awkward.

The almost six year old boy had not taken into account just how boring a place could be without any form of companionship. The majority of his toys here he considered himself 'too old' for, and only inspected when he was feeling particularly curious. At the moment, he had not reached that crucial stage of boredom, and was therefore trying to think of something he could do other than homework. Not that he had a lot to begin with, but his teachers in his second year seemed to be rather fond of assigning projects that took up a bit more time than last year. Harry rather suspected that this would be a pattern, each year of school meaning an increased workload but also an increased knowledge base (to be fair, he didn't think of it in quite so many words). Because of this, he knew better than to complain, Dudley did enough of that anyway. No, Harry would keep his head down, and work on his words for phonics and all of the various rules that you had to memorize for just about anything. The more he knew, the more he understood, after all. And Harry's thirst for knowledge seemed to grow each day.

However, this did not mean he was in any particular rush to complete the money counting worksheet or his phonetics or anything of the sort. School had let out less than an hour ago, and Harry was rather keen on having a break of some kind.

Of course, his original plan of regaling Mr. Lupin with the story of today's events and trying to coax more information out about his parents was down the drain since the man wasn't here. So instead, he found himself out on the back patio, pushing a few matchbox cars around. Occasionally, he sent them wheeling off for as fast as long as possible with a single push. This however, meant he had to constantly get back up and retrieve them – or send them back from wherever they landed. While not a horrible sticking point, it certainly did not improve the 'bored out of my mind' mood.

A soft stirring in the grass behind him was the only indication Harry received that he was no longer alone. The raven haired boy was fairly unsurprised, having grown accustomed to having at least one if not two snakes in the vicinity of both his home, Mr. Lupin's, and even at school every once in a while. While he only saw the somewhat grouchy snake at school, everywhere else had at least two snakes in the area, which made for some rather interesting overheard conversations between his uncle and aunt about the growing population of snakes in the area. While Harry was by no means pleased with the options of either being deluded and insane because he thought he could speak to snakes, or actually being able to speak to snakes and having his guardians not tell him – he was willing to let it go. As far back as he could remember, there were things that did not add up, and this had never been denied, just put off. Well, he was 'older' now and it was about time someone let him in on whatever big secret there was.

Scowling, he sent the poor matchbox truck scurrying off the patio and into the grass with a particular vicious thrust. Unfortunately, given the amount of force he had applied, the tiny car had flown quite far. Mindful of his aunt's constant chidings to not track dirt into the house, he was slightly reluctant to fetch it as it would require quite a bit of stomping on the concrete to rid his shoes of the dirt and thus keep the nagging 'aunt' voice of his conscience happy. That was – until his silent watcher finally decided to chip in.

_I always thought you two leggeds were a few shards short an egg._

Harry whirled to face the creature addressing him. Well, talking about him anyway.

_What is that supposed to mean?_

_There isn't much point in throwing things just to bring them back, now is there?_

_Not all of us spend our time staring at others_, was Harry's muttered reply, making a mental note that the snake at school was not the only one who was grumpy. Despite himself, Harry was curious though, finally mustering the courage to ask a question of the snakes that seemed to plague him.

_What kind are you anyway?_ Harry thought it was a smooth snake, but it wouldn't hurt to check, right?

_Kind of what?_

_Snake of course, what did you think I meant?_

There was a moment of silence, and if Harry hadn't known better, he would have thought the snake had sneered at him.

_I am as I was born, why should I know what you two leggeds call me?_ His tongue flickered out, tasting the air. Suddenly, his tone switched to something that almost sounded consoling. _Of course, you are still a nestling. Why don't you look it up in one of those shredded dead trees your kind keeps? And in the meantime, if you insist on throwing and fetching things pointlessly, at least change things up. You'd think you only had hands, the way you act._

Giving the boy a look that could only be classified as disgruntled, he left the boy spluttering something about, 'what do you expect me to use, my feet?'

That had been the oddest conversation Harry had ever had with a snake. For the most part, their thoughts seemed fairly simple, although he had noticed that the longer they were around him, the more intelligent they sounded. This particular snake had visited him fairly frequently. And by frequently – he had seen it almost every visit he had with Mr. Lupin. Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. On the one hand, it could be his delusions were growing in strength; on the other hand, it was possible they were either opening up to him more, or the snakes actually became smarter for being exposed to him. Yet another question he would probably never know the answer to.

There was another puzzle to the snake's words though, and while he had snappily responded, he still wanted to know what else the snake thought he could use. What other method was there of retrieving something other than by hand?

Well, he supposed he could ask someone else to get it, but there was no one else here, and he had the impression it was something that could be done in the here and now. Besides, it was stupid to have someone else do something he could do himself, should do for himself, even. Otherwise any method was just plain lazy.

Focusing on the little toy car he could just make out in the grass, the young boy frowned in concentration. Fresh in his mind he studied all of the strange little inconsistencies that had been bugging him more and more of late, things that didn't make sense or shouldn't be possible.

Most prominently, he was trying to come up with something that involved calling objects to you. There was only one memory in particular that came to mind – three Christmases ago.

Feeling like an idiot, he tilted his head slightly, eyes still on the car and murmured a 'please'.

He was not in the least surprised when absolutely nothing happened. That would have been illogical; otherwise when anyone said please, things would come zooming at them. No, there had to be some element he was missing.

Squinting in concentration, he remembered all of the times he had ever been told to wait, that he couldn't know something, and he remembered all the questions that had led to that answer. They always seemed to occur when he was angry, upset, or scared or he really needed something.

He had no desire to work himself up into some sort of fit; although it would be easy to get upset, he rather thought it would end up having some peculiar and unpredicted reaction. So instead he concentrated on wanting the car.

There was a slight twitch, possibly from animal life.

Okay, that wasn't quite good enough.

Harry frowned, contemplative. He wanted that car and he *would have it. He could feel a slight tingle, perhaps of determination. Willing this mad idea to succeed, there was a strange sense of letting go, of believing anything might be possible, and believing in himself.

"Harry, what are you doing out there?"

The small boy whirled, a triumphant grin on his face.

'Perfect timing, Mr. Lupin', he thought to himself, tucking the toy car into his pocket and heading inside.

"Just playing around a bit."

"Hope we didn't keep you waiting too long," came another voice from behind Mr. Lupin.

"Hey Peter!" Harry gave them both a warm smile, laughing a little as Mr. Lupin pretended to sulk because he would call Peter by his name but kept forgetting to call *him Remus. There was just something more adult and mature in Mr. Lupin that was not there in Peter. Peter was the timid but friendly one who was always up for a card game or something silly. Peter was also the one who had convinced him that being a 'four eyes' wasn't all that bad. Harry had been put out when the nurse had informed him and his Aunt Petunia that he would need glasses. But the thought that having glasses made him more like his dad was actually a bit… appealing.

Fixing a curious gaze to Mr. Lupin, he almost asked about the snakes. He almost asked him about the strangeness that made no sense. He almost asked about the possibility of magic.

And then he thought better of it. If he asked now, he would probably be put off yet again. No, it would probably be better to come to a conclusion and then confront the adults about it. He just hoped Dudley would help. Two heads work faster than one.

Giving his minder a slight smile, he posed a different question.

"What are you showing me today?"

* * *

Dinner at the Dursley household always followed the same pattern. Dudley offered ideas and helped prepare, Aunt Petunia would cook, and Harry would carry the plates to the table. After all this, Uncle Vernon would regale them all with stories of his prowess at work as they ate (and make sure you boys are eating enough protein!). Then, after all of this was over, Harry would clean up as Aunt Petunia checked over their homework before letting them off to do as they wished.

Tonight was no different, no sooner had Aunt Petunia pat Dudley's head and praised, "Good job, Popkin," than Harry had whisked his cousin upstairs.

"Sorry D," he murmured apologetically as he closed the door to the toy room. He could tell his cousin was a bit upset by the rush but mostly confused. "I'm just so excited," he explained, "I think I'm close to figuring out what the big secret is."

"Wha – really?"

All was forgiven to Dudley with that one sentence. Harry had confided in him not too long ago. They had considered sharing with Linda at one point (Harry had categorically banned the mentioning of it to Piers), but had decided that this was a family thing. Therefore, it should be kept inside the family only. In retrospect, it was almost funny how they considered Mr. Lupin and Peter as family or honorary family members anyway, whereas they would not have dreamed of mentioning it to Aunt Marge.

Harry was nodding eagerly in response to his cousin's jumbled query though.

"Yeah, I saw one of those smooth snakes again. You remember the ones we looked up? Constrictors that look a little like adders but aren't venomous? Anyway, I was out just messing around and he said something about fetching the cars back without my hands."

"Well that's helpful," Dudley commented a bit sarcastically.

Harry just laughed, "Yeah, that's what I thought. But you won't believe it, Dud, I can do it! It was kinda tiring and it took a few tries but it was like… I willed it to me."

Dudley stared at him in shock for a few moments, and then whistled, "Wicked."

The raven haired boy smiled shyly. "Yeah, I thought so too."

The two boys say in silence for a little while, before the blonde spoke.

"Harry, do you… do you reckon I could do it to? M-magic I mean? Cause that's what it is, right? Or it might as well be…."

"I don't know," the smaller boy answered thoughtfully. "That's something else we have to find out I guess."

It was Dudley of course who asked the ultimate question.

"How?"

Fortunately for the two conspirators, Harry actually did have an idea. True, it was one he had only just come up with at Mr. Lupin's today, but it was a plan nonetheless.

"I've been thinking, you know how they always get all shifty whenever I bring up something strange or my parents?"

"They get sad when you mention your parents too."

"Well, yeah, but that's not the point. Of course they would be sad, my parents are dead. The weird stuff is still happening. Anyway, they get the same look about them, so I thought that maybe they might be related."

There were a few moments of silence as Dudley pondered this and Harry looked increasingly nervous.

"I suppose… maybe your parents could do this magic stuff. How does this help?"

"Maybe there are other people who can do it too, D. Maybe I can meet people, learn things. I don't think we should say anything until we are positive. We need proof."

* * *

It had taken quite a bit of convincing, but Dudley did manage to convince his mother to let him borrow some old family albums of when she was younger. Petunia had not really seen the point of course, but he emphasized Harry's point of wanting to 'get to know the family'. And since all of Petunia's relatives were dead, what better way?

Once the albums were secure, it had taken another little while to find anything interesting whatsoever. And interesting was putting it mildly. Trying to spot Petunia or Lily was an odd sort of guessing game. To the boys' disappointment, all of the pictures stored inside the relevant year brackets were perfectly normal. True, the redhead they could only assume was Lily was rather absent after the age of eleven or so (based on the years labeled lightly on the back), but other than that there was nothing out of the ordinary. All except for one photo, it was taken outside of a dingy area of London and Lily seemed to be in some sort of Halloween costume – complete with a witches' hat. The only other person strangely attired was an intense looking dark haired boy who seemed to be Lily's very antithesis. Where one was bright sunshine the other was night and moonlight. Still, they were visibly close, and would have to be to be brave enough to wear that sort of outfit around London in Harry's opinion.

As interesting as the image was, and as lovely of a clue, neither boy felt it was enough to draw conclusions from. The idea of magic made sense enough to their minds, but the idea of people wearing those stereotypical outfits? Well, as Dudley put it, he wasn't sure magic was worth having to wear a dress. Some sacrifices had to be made for dignity.

Still, they pocketed the picture when Dudley returned the albums to his mum. Harry would spend quite a bit of time over the next few days staring at the photo. He felt like there was some answer to the secret here, if only he could spot it.

Not that he had loads of time to look at it. Mr. Lupin had started to teach him chess. While Harry was not outstandingly great at it, he was learning. He had also slipped and asked 'Uncle Remus' if they could play checkers as well. Strangely, Mr. Lupin had not seemed to mind his lapse in the least, wearing an odd smile for the rest of the day.

The only other noted difference was that Harry was tired a lot more lately, something Petunia had noticed with a bit of concern. He'd come home from school looking bushed, but as soon as he had eaten something and taken a cat nap and he would be raring to go to practice football with his friends or to go play down at the park with Dudley. It really was the strangest thing, seeing as he had never shown signs of being sleepy after school before.

The two boys both knew why Harry was tired though. The cousins had both attempted to use magic at recess, and while Dudley eventually gave up from lack of results, Harry, however, had been practicing calling things to him and sending them away. It was rather difficult, but it seemed to get easier with practice – so practice was precisely what he did. He and Dudley had also been trying to come up with other tricks for Harry to try. If all else failed, performing actual magic would be as good as proof anyway. After all, the only thing they had found in the photograph was two oddly dressed people with three normally dressed folks, a blurred but dingy background, and a street sign that read Charing Cross Road.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I would like to make a few comments in response to some of the reviews I have received, as a hope not to get the same points posed. First of all, I agree that young children shouldn't be doing push ups or weight; I tend to think of Vernon as a 'do first, think later' sort of person, so of course he didn't think of this. In chapter seven it was stated that the boys a) did not actually do what Vernon wanted as he wasn't watching and b) Petunia forbid such an attempt to happen anyway.

As for the snakes, the only snake whose species I specifically identified was a smooth snake. The smooth snake is a TYPE of constrictor according to my research, which just specifies the way it gets its prey, not its species. However, I did have the boys look up the types because I hardly thought it realistic that they would just 'know'. So yes, I know there are only three species native to Britain.

Thanks for putting up with such a long A/N and thank you for reading and reviewing!

* * *

For the time being, Harry and Dudley had put aside any hope of finding witches or warlocks or whatever they called themselves. Instead, partially to prove its reality to themselves and later to the adults so that maybe they could get the full story, the two tested Harry's boundaries. One of his current exercises, for instance, was to levitate a pencil and try to get it to perform aerial maneuvers such as spinning and occasionally writing in the air.

Of course, the trouble with this plan was figuring out not only what to try and if it was possible, but also when to make their attempts. This strange possibility of magic was not their whole life after all. There was still school, football, chores, friends, and for Dudley a still growing fascination with rugby and now boxing (he was torn between the two). At night though, or whenever they were at Mr. Lupin's or home without any adults in sight, Dudley would call out things for Harry to try. For the most part, they had been unsuccessful and progress was slow. Harry had found it required a great deal of concentration and a certain determination to make things happen.

One week in particular, they had hoped to make progress. It was career week at school and several parents and other invited speakers had come to talk to the children throughout the week about their jobs. One such speaker was a stage magician, and while his performance before his talk with the kids was informative, it was only awe inspiring until he started using such words as 'tricks'. Immediately after, Harry had dragged a certain somewhat reluctant blonde cousin with him to the library. It had not taken too long to discover a book on it in the career section (they hadn't thought to check there of all places before).

It also took very little time for both boys to become disgusted. Harry, because they were basically professional liars and conmen and Dudley because he was wasting perfectly good pranking time in the library for no results. The book they had found only mentioned card tricks and escapism at any real length, and Harry did not have any particular desire to pull a rabbit out of a hat, so even inspiration wise it was a bit disappointing.

All the same, it did have an effect on Harry's plans to convince either Aunt Petunia or his Uncle Remus into telling them the truth about magic and, more importantly to him, the story of why his parents died, just not in the way the two near six year olds liked.

That evening had progressed as normal, with the sharing of stories at dinner and clean up and such. After some discussion before school ended, the two boys had agreed to casually bring up the stage magician's inclusion in their career talks at school. As soon as the word 'magic' left Harry's mouth, both boys noted a profound effect on their guardians. Petunia had gone stiffer than one of Uncle Vernon's ironed shirts and Uncle Vernon himself was slowly turning a particularly unattractive shade of puce.

After letting this continue for a minute, Harry spoke again.

"It was complete rubbish of course."

Oddly enough, this made his aunt choke a bit, but his uncle fixed him with a beady stare until Harry and Dudley explained how patently false and rather stupid the presentation had been.

In the end, his uncle was calm, jovial even, but his aunt had the strangest guilty look on her face.

Later that night, the two boys listened in on their guardians' conversation. Unsurprisingly – to them anyway – the subject of magic came up. There was a certain thrill, hearing Aunt Petunia hiss something about 'maybe we ought to tell him'. Vernon was firmly against revealing the secret though.

One sentence caught both boys off guard, causing them to freeze so much it was a wonder they didn't get caught.

"The lad's got a decent head on his shoulders, just remember what we decided Pet', best to leave all that rubbish be for now then for you or me to have to deal with another freak turning teacups into rats."

Scurrying away from the keyhole, it would take some time for either of the boys to fully process this as the summer hols had begun and stood to be almost busier than the school year.

That conversation did mark another turning point in the way Aunt Petunia treated Harry (and Dudley for that matter). It was as if she had just realized that they were well and truly growing up.

Much to both boys' displeasure, she started buying them practice workbooks for over summer and had them start reading a book a day. The reading in and of itself was not that bad, particularly since they could read about building or sharks or anything else of their choosing. The brief quizzing about what they'd learned from the book did put a damper on their interest at first though. In time, it grew to become a competition – Harry and Dudley even collected points based on the number of questions answered well, and they couldn't just be recitations from the books. The points could be cashed in for treats, either candy or trips somewhere of their choosing.

She had also begun to express serious disapproval against their handwriting. She'd handed both boys a fountainhead pen and told them to practice, muttering under her breath that 'if you can write with one of them, you can write well with anything'.

This was not to imply they did not enjoy a mostly carefree summer. There was still time for football and races and wrestling inside and down at the park. The neighborhood gang often tried to find out who could swing highest and jump furthest from the swing without getting hurt. There were even some friendly water gun skirmishes.

Whenever Harry was alone, he still saw the snakes. Or rather, he heard them, rarely actually seeing where the voices were coming from. It wasn't the most reassuring arrangement for his sanity, but he listened just the same. Oddly, the snakes were the ones who managed to calm him whenever he had a certain sort of strange encounter. Every once in a while, either in the marketplace with his aunt (who insisted he and Dudley should learn to manage money and therefore had to come) or on the trains going to and from, weirdly dressed people would come up and insist on shaking his hand from time to time. Originally, his aunt looked mildly irritated with him, but the direction of her ire quickly changed when she noticed that every time, Harry would step back towards his cousin and mutter a nervous 'We'll just be going now'. Dudley of course had no problem glaring away the intruders into the boys' personal space.

It was from the snakes that Harry first learned about his past. He never heard anything extensive or even much, just whispers. Just that another speaker had tried to kill him as a nestling, that there had been much blood spilt, and he heard murmurs of an encroaching darkness that was forced to flee when his mother lay down her life. These conversations always ended with the warning that he had 'much growing to do, little nestling, and not many suns to grow in'. It was all rather puzzling, but at least it was something.

The second project of the summer that Petunia set was plotting a vegetable garden. Understandably, this was not met with much cheering. After all, weeding just the flowerbeds was chore enough, even though the blonde and raven haired boys shared that job, it never seemed to pass any quicker. Petunia insisted that a little hard work would not kill them and repeated what must have been one of her new favorite phrases. "You'll need to know when you are older. You'll thank me someday; you'll see."

Well they certainly were not going to be thanking her now. Plotting and planting a new garden under the heat of the sun, even with suntan lotion and plenty of water, just wasn't the six year olds' idea of a picnic. While they would grow to be proud of it later, particularly when some of the plants actually started to bear fruit (er… bear vegetables?), the initial stages was simply quite a bit of toil. Petunia did most of the work of course, they were still too young to do most of the digging and maneuvering involved, especially unsupervised. What she did have them do was help with each step of the process after watching her take care of a few plants. She would have them walk out and measure the paces to where the next seedlings should be planted and started digging a bit. She would come and finish the hole while they patted the dirt down around the plot she had just left. As they all wore gloves, one would take some fertilizer and sprinkle the soil while the other watered the plot. The planting of the entire vegetable garden continued in this vein. It wasn't perfect, but it was a learning experience.

At least time with Mr. Lupin did not really change any. He was still quiet but friendly, always willing to listen and offer advice, particularly on new books to try reading. Uncle Remus, as Harry and Dudley had slowly begun to call him, also had a stash of various types of candies he would let them try as long as they promised to keep it a secret. Both boys had promised this wouldn't be a problem, and because of this found themselves snacking on candy from kitkat bars and gummi worms to Honeydukes chocolate and chocolate éclairs that caused your eyes to spin through the colors of the rainbow while you were eating them (an effect they pretended not to notice, naturally).

He also took them to see a few movies (the boys had 'redeemed' their reading points and Petunia allowed them to go with Remus and Peter while she was with her bridge club). The two movies that probably made the most impact on the young Harry Potter and Dudley Dursley were Short Circuit and Labyrinth. Whenever something went wrong or neither could figure an answer out, the two would inevitably chorus 'Malfunction, need more input!'

This would, in time, drive most of their minders into a very irritated state of mind, but the duo couldn't care less. You see, by the time they had seen these movies, the gardening was done except for weeding (ah, the joys), leaving the two with more free time on their hands. And thanks to this free time, and watching a certain movie that may have involved a petulant child and a freakishly dressed David Bowie with the hilarity of a child's imagination gone wild… they had learned a few things.

The first was that men should not wear close fitting tights. The second was that it was never wise to state that something was a piece of cake, particularly while in a competition for something important, like say life or liberty. Still, the Escher room with all of the stair cases and the concept of a thirteenth hour – not to mention goblins with a humanlike king – was absolutely fascinating.

It was also, unfortunately, something Harry knew that was way beyond him. Heck, even turning – what had his uncle said? – teacups into rats was beyond him. Turning anything into something else might be for all he knew.

And so it was that Harry resolved to learn the art of Transfiguration, or rather (as he put it) changing things into something else. He decided to start small. His first attempt involved turning a blade of grass into a sewing pin. An hour of focusing, adding another blade and then taking it away, ripping weeds angrily from the soil as a distraction, and trying some more for him to acknowledge he had absolutely no idea how to go about this. He knew that it was possible, if Uncle Vernon mentioned it, then it pretty much had to be. But the details of how the changing occurred, what he had to do to make the switch work were something he had not yet grasped.

Taking a deep breath, Harry dusted the dirt off his clothes, finished weeding his section of the garden and marched inside. For some reason, the trick that he used to manipulate other objects into moving the way he wanted them to did not work in changing them. He wasn't sure why, but he wasn't really curious as to why either. He just wanted to know how he was supposed to do it if it was so different. That and if there was another way to get objects to move, he thought that perhaps there was one way to do all sorts of different things. After all, it was just magic; surely magic should all be the same? Magic was magic after all.

Perhaps there was something more to it, a way to connect with his magic that would allow him to use it more easily. Harry didn't have a clue what would this entail though. So instead of worrying about it, he went upstairs to their toy room and plied open a certain loose floorboard. Underneath it, he and Dudley had stored all of their ideas involving Operation: M is Mashed Potatoes, which was a story in and of itself.

Picking out a notebook, Harry slowly wrote with the fountain pen his aunt insisted he learn to use, before storing everything back in the hiding place. When he was older and he knew more, Harry knew that he would be able to come back and hopefully answer some of the questions he and his cousin had come up with. For now though, he had something much more fun to focus on – football.

* * *

The first day of school next year saw Peter dropping them off at school for the first time. Petunia was on some serious painkillers due to the mess her dentist had made of not using topical anesthesia… or any effect anesthetic for that matter. Vernon had been growling ever since. He was in a bit of a bind as Grunnings was in negotiations with that office, and so he couldn't yell their ears blue like he would have liked. He did insist Petunia find another dentist for the entire family, not wanting anyone to have to repeat her experience.

Because of the inevitable jarring of driving, Petunia had stayed home, and because it was close enough to the full moon that Remus was out like a light, and Petunia didn't want cat hair on her Popkins or little Harry, Peter was elected designated driver.

This was the first time Peter drove them, but it would not be the last. Peter turned out to be quite the conversationalist for all that he was typically quiet. When pressed, he could offer an opinion and back said opinion up on almost any topic. However, other than this change in arrangements, the third year of Infants began uneventfully. There was, of course, the typical exchange of what happened over the summer. Piers' family had gone to Majorca. As exciting as this sounded, Harry didn't particularly envy Piers for the awful sunburn he was still sporting. Linda's summer had been quieter than the Dursley household's had. All she had done was go to visit some family friends who had the sad misfortune of being a stockbroker and an accountant with a two year old.

School passed as uneventfully as it always did with mostly uncaring teachers and mostly uncaring students. If any of the teachers thought it was odd that Potter or Dursley would occasionally start writing in ink – and fountain pen at that – they did not comment except to remind students using pens to make sure they did not write down any answers in ink unless they were positive it was correct. Well, that and to remind everyone to write legibly if they expected to receive any grade higher than failing.

A few more pictures found their way around the Dursley household. There was a photograph of a skinny dark haired boy and a somewhat plump blonde showing off vegetables from a backyard garden. The same two boys were featured in a more recent picture, only in this one the dark haired boy's messy hair had grown a little more so that it covered his eyes. He was leaning over a desk, pointing something out on a worksheet to the blonde, who seemed to reach a healthier weight with each photograph and no longer resembled a puffed up beach toy or balloon. There were more photos of football games, some with the blonde hoisted on his team's shoulders, and a few where the green eyed boy had clearly run up and jumped on his cousin's shoulders, his chin resting just on top of the blonde's with an utterly mischievous smile as the blonde boy pumped the air.

In short, the Dursley household was rather normal, thank you very much. Aside from the obvious exceptions... well, maybe it wasn't exactly normal, but it certainly was happy, and that was something to be thankful for. After all, not everyone gets to live in a happy environment, and some people do not even get to have happy memories.

Far away on a gloomy island covered in fog and near constant gloom, there stood a fortress of a prison guarded by some of the vilest things known to wizard kind. This prison was known as Azkaban and it held prisoners serving stints from as short as a few weeks or a month to what amounted to Death Row – lifetime prisoners. It was well known that the longer someone stayed in an Azkaban cell, the more insane they became. This was because dementors are creatures that fed on happy memories for sustenance. Prolonged exposure caused the erosion of one's happy memories until all that you were left with were the worst memories of your life, on a never ending play loop.

Inside one of the cells set aside for life term prisoners was a shaggy dark haired man with wild looking eyes. He was surrounded by screaming. There were screams of despair, screams for help, and screams of terror. This particular man was silent. While his fellow prisoners struggled to retain a semblance of sanity, he did not worry over this either. His entire focus was on one thing – a small little boy far away with green eyes and a lightning bolt scar on his forehead.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: To address those who ask whether Sirius is innocent or guilty (and the same for Peter): I'm afraid you'll have to wait and see.

Thank you all once again for your reviews, they really are enormously helpful. At this point, I'm just going to have to admit I must not know what normal kids Harry and Dudley's age are like. I've been basing them off my little sister's intelligence and ability (mind you, she was in dance not football at four, but that was from the fact my dad knew someone who got trounced by some kids at soccer because they'd been playing since THEY were four). For the sake of argument, let's just pretend that without Dudley being exceedingly cosseted and Harry downtrodden, they turn out a bit brighter… because Harry really needs as much a jump start as he can get.

* * *

Chapter 10_  
_

_I've watched you so long. It seems it's been years. I just want to hold you. I'll hold you tight all through the night and cry to the heavens above. But I'm a dementor… a dementor in love._

_- The Blibbering Humdingers_

There was a chill in Azkaban that went beyond bone deep, settling around his shoulders, the gloom so thick he could breathe it in. Only a few cells away, he could hear his cousin shrieking about how 'the Dark Lord will save us'. Personally he thought it was a waste of breath. Black wasn't sure whether Bellatrix was right or not, but either way, talking about it was not going to make Him somehow show up. All it was really succeeding in accomplishing was giving him a headache.

Sirius swallowed suddenly, feeling a wave of even more intense cold. The wailing and whimpering that began in the cells at the end of the corridor left little doubt as to what was coming. These visits were always the same, and yet somehow, each was worse than the last.

He could remember, when he'd first came, the man in the cell next to his had been… shall we say, more in control of his mental faculties. The first visit he had experienced, he had not fully accepted the fact he was in Azkaban. Those so called arbitrators of justice had stuck him here. He had laughed as they had dragged him off. He had laughed because he knew that after that day – it could not possibly get worse. Frankly, Sirius wasn't sure if he had been wrong.

The first time, he had been shaken. Having all of his worst memories brought crashing to the fore left him shaken, clinging to the bars, but conscious. That day, his next cell neighbor had assured him with a croaking voice "the first time's always the worst". Well if that was the case, he thought he could handle this, but mere hours later the dementors returned, hovering at each prisoner's cell for what felt like an eternity. When he came around, forcing his mind to focus once more, he could just make out the whisper from next door, "the second time is always the worst".

It had taken a few visits for it to sink in, but the true meaning to sink in, and when it had; Sirius rather wished it had not.

He'd made the best of it though. Instead of focusing on matters of guilt or innocence, he focused on what he would change if he could rectify matters. The day the Potters' had been attacked was still the end of his hopes, and he wanted revenge t hat was far beyond his grasp at the moment. Now, he could only change into his dog form and hope to avoid notice from their undead guards. They seemed particularly fond of him. Whenever Bella was experiencing a bout of sanity had taunted that 'they just can't resist your charm, Sirius. Looks like you've got more than lovesick girls after you know though, charm doesn't do you much good now does it, you filthy traitor!"

Pushing away his cousin's words, Black just curled up in his dog form and tried as best he could to get a few hours of uninterrupted rest. Perhaps this time he would succeed, he'd been here long enough to tune out the other prisoners after all, the only wild card now was the dementors, and even they somewhat scheduled their feeding. At least, he thought so… time, like warmth, didn't really seem to belong in Azkaban.

Padfoot was not the only once Marauder who was in a bit of a bind. One Remus Lupin, often called Moony by his friends, Over the years, there had been several times when he had caught a certain look of confusion in what might has well have been his godson's eyes whenever something particularly odd was noticed. It was always followed by such a strong look of determination that Moony felt horrid for keeping such secrets from him. He wanted nothing more at this point than to tell young Harry at least something. To confirm the existence of magic and promise he'd receive training and allies and a more fickle community than he could imagine, perhaps. Or even to just tell him the truth about his parents' deaths. Yet Remus couldn't, because he was a man of his word. Long ago, he had agreed to let the Dursleys decide when Harry was told of certain things in order to be allowed in said child's life. He had also assured Dumbledore that he would follow the Dursleys' wishes. And while it had been years since he and Dumbledore had actually talked, the vow was just as binding in the werewolf's mind as if it had been made the day before or magically.

For the most part, he tried to keep this out of mind, focusing on making sure Harry was happy and that he continued to progress so well through whatever his current project of interest was. As time had passed, Remus had found himself floating from job to job, in both the magical and the muggle world. Truth be told, as he was forced to acclimate to the muggle world anyway to associate with Harry, he had found the nonmagicals much easier to work with. In the beginning, the magicals had been far too sympathetic as he was known to some as a friend of James Potter. That quickly turned to unwelcome suspicion, and eventually, he would find himself beating the streets for a job once more, each time feeling like he'd been slapped in the face.

The nonmagicals though were a bit easier to get along with. While he had one employer who seemed a bit suspicious that Remus was one of those 'pagan fellers with them pentagrams and candles and mumbo jumbo', on the whole his being otherwise occupied on the full moons passed without comment. Unfortunately, given the fact he did not have much education in the muggle world to speak of, he was kept to the sort of minimum wage jobs. He was lucky to have had enough money saved up to buy the town home he was currently in; otherwise he would be even more strapped for cash. As it was, Remus found himself rather grateful that places such as Goodwill existed. In the magical world he would have had to wear ragged and worn down robes and bought most things second hand. While in the nonmagical world, he still bought plenty of things second hand, he could at least have things that looked nice.

Interestingly enough, he was able to hold a few jobs for quite some time, only being cut due to budget restrictions on the company's part. This was partially due to one Vernon Dursley's support in later years. While he may not have had the official education, recommendations meant the world to some hiring managers, and once Remus had his foot in the door, he tended to be an incredibly fast learner, even if he didn't like being in debt to Dursley – not because he was a muggle, but simply because Remus just didn't like being in debt to anyone.

However, this feeling of owing the Dursleys only reinforced his need to keep his word. That, and a definite fear about Harry would react to his 'furry little problem' should he start telling the boy the whole truth.

Lupin was not the only one with regrets about not being more open with a certain raven haired boy. Surprisingly, one of the others was his Aunt Petunia. As much as she still loathed magic, not only for being unnatural but for stealing her sister from her, she felt guilty for keeping his heritage a secret from the boy. At the same time, Petunia didn't want to lose the nephew she had come to love just like she had her sister. So while she tried not to outright lie to Harry, for instance never saying magic in and of itself wasn't real, she wasn't ready to broach the subject without Vernon's support. And Vernon, somehow, was much more against the idea than Petunia herself was. In time, she knew he would mellow out. He couldn't fool her after all; Petunia knew he was rather fond of her nephew as well. Really, they both just wanted to keep them for their own. They'd raised him, and while he knew they were not his real parents, she supposed it was similar to the feeling adopted parents had when coming out about the fact they were not really their child's parents. Harry knew well they were his aunt and uncle, but he still had his parents' world, it was just out of reach for now, and selfishly, Petunia wanted to keep him in hers for as long as she could.

At the same time, if Harry was as important Pettigrew had originally led them to believe, then keeping the magic world a relative secret might be even worse than she already felt it to be. But for Petunia, he was just a little boy, just like her Duddikins, and he deserved a childhood. Just because Petunia was not ready to sit down with the boy and tell him all about Hogwarts and the life that lay ahead of him after he completed primary did not mean she was not going to prepare him in some way for the change. She never would truly like magic, and Vernon was completely against her telling Harry anything, so she just helped out in little ways. She had given him with the fountain pen in an attempt of some sort to get him used to writing with a quill, although she was not sure how helpful it would be. If nothing else, Petunia did feel it would improve hi penmanship to some degree. She also tried her best to make sure he was at home in a garden. While she was a bit obsessive in her cleaning inside the home, Petunia made an exception for her dislike of dirt when it came to planting and growing things, and she hoped to possibly encourage that same love in her boys. She had always found it to be a wonderful sort of stress relief and it would be good for Harry especially to have that in years to come. Vernon wanted Dudley to follow him into selling drills, so the boy didn't really need it himself but still, he was her son and she wanted to spend time with him as well – what more reason did she need?

The two boys were currently in Year 2 at primary (having finished Reception and Year 1, marking his third year at school other than nursery). Harry and Dudley had the joy of looking forward to Key Stage 1 exams this year, which neither of the boys were really looking forward to. For the most part, they did enjoy primary… well, Harry did. Dudley just liked seeing their friends. That didn't mean Harry was looking forward to something as major as exams. He knew year mates tended to go together and it was nearly impossible to be flunked and kept back another year… but it was still nerve wracking. He wanted to make a good impression after all. As much as the idea perturbed Dudley, he and Harry had both made silent plans to ask Aunt Petunia and Uncle Remus for help with revision.

These plans found the two boys at a now somewhat worn but exceedingly clean kitchen table with Uncle Remus. He had agreed to go over their lessons on multiplication and division, as it had been recently introduced. Their teachers had not gone in depth on it much, and the two had wanted to be sure they had a handle on the theory. They ended up getting more than they bargained for as Remus was an exceedingly good teacher. He had even shown Harry how to use his abacus for the calculations, but warned him that he should not rely on that as he couldn't have it with him all the time. That, and Lupin assured them that mental math, once one got the hang of it, was quicker and easier. He set them to memorizing their times tables, although after it was pointed out that was next year's material most likely, allowed them leniency on when he expected them to actually learn it.

Unsurprisingly, the two decided to attempt it now, while it was fresh in their minds. Harry did so because he wanted to know as much as he could. Dudley's motivations were more along the lines of the fact he didn't want to be too far behind his cousin.

The school year was not just work and studying though. The gang soon learned that Piers, despite being stringy and small himself, had an older brother who they eventually cajoled into teaching them basketball. While football was still Harry's favorite, dribbling the orange ball down the court to his team mates and the feeling of euphoria whenever he managed to sink the ball into the net was wonderful. Dudley was not as fond of it, but was soon placated when Piers' brother's friend agreed to teach him the basics of boxing. Not that he was actually learning boxing, just showing him how it was done. As Dudley found this sport much more interesting, the gang's trips to play ball and shoot hoops were welcomed by all.

A few snapshots made their way into Petunia Dursley's rather formidable picture collection. A simple family portrait (yes, including Harry) was on the wall now, but she had a photo on her dresser of that Christmas. Harry had convinced Remus to help them with supplies and he and Dudley had both painted pictures for her. Dudley's had been of the tree, presents, and stockings. Harry had instead focused on the family gathered around the fire roasting either chestnuts or marshmallows. She had thought the gifts incredibly thoughtful and kept them in a safe place for use around Christmas for the years to come. The snapshot itself was of Christmas day, with the two boys cavorting about, bits of wrapping paper sticking to their clothes as they had tried to place a bow in her hair, calling her a gift. Vernon's camera had caught her mid blush, but she loved the photo anyway.

Photos made her think of a certain album she had been keeping for one messy haired boy for years though. She knew that Remus had performed some sort of charm to keep photos in the wizarding books Harry had received on his fourth birthday to stay still if any muggles were present. Vaguely, Petunia wondered if it would be possible to just freeze them into a later time so that Harry could have the album soon, and have them unfrozen later when he was fully aware of the magic situation. She would have to ask him later.

Come summer, the Dursleys were trying their third dentist office. While several of the hygienists were bearable, Vernon had not been sold on any of the dentists themselves, and had point blank refused to even try one office when he learned they were supplied by Grunnings' major rival. It was one thing when they were supplied by medical companies or even smaller drill companies, but when Grunnings' had a perfectly good certified dentist drills department and an office was supplied by their obviously inferior major rival… well, he just was not going to support that, and neither was his family.

That was just a side drama really, especially for the two young boys. They were much more focused on having fun and taking a break over summer. Sure, Harry still practiced and tried new things as well as old ideas they had written down and stowed in the loose floorboard of their playroom, but summer was about relaxing and Dudley was determined that they did so. They often walked to nearby friend's houses for tea or just to hang out.

The two boys had just recently left one day when Peter had stopped by to visit. He had apparated near what he knew from experience to be an empty house at this time and walked to Number 4. However, instead of finding Harry and his cousin outside, he was faced with Petunia and an older looking woman he remembered vaguely having the last name of Figg. After politely inquiring after the boys, and being told they were off at some friend's house, he had thanked Petunia for her time and left. Not an altogether unusual occurrence, except for Mrs. Figg's inclusion.

If he had known what the results of that simple visit would be, Peter might have rescheduled for another day. Mrs. Figg did indeed report to Dumbledore, and while she knew the Dursleys cared for young Harry Potter as if he were their own, she had not known that any wizards were welcome to visit. Later that night, when she firecalled Dumbledore for her monthly report, she left him with quite a bit of food for thought.

Time passed and the entire gang ended up having a blast. Petunia organized yet another extravagant shared party for the boys, which led to more photos (of soaked but smiling cousins gunning each other down with hoses). They continued to visit the homes of their friends, calling ahead before visiting those farther away. This was part of Petunia's resurging insistence that they learn and practice manners outside of school ('although I have some doubts about that') and reminding them that politeness was 'not just for Vernon's business dinners'. When the boys had complained they had been told they were always welcome to visit, she simply sniffed. If they pressed, she would simply tilt her nose up and remind them sternly, "You'll need to know when you are older. You'll thank me someday; you'll see." Hearing the catchphrase of sorts was generally enough to get the boys to cease their complaints. Neither really expected Petunia's vague 'when you're older' to apply anytime soon.

Yet one day at Linda's house (an awkward position given the fact she was their only female friend) in mid-October during the first break that school year, they found that her drills on politeness were lifesavers. The Williams' had what was apparently Linda's father's best friend over to stay for the week, including their daughter. For some ungodly reason they had seen fit to saddle her with the name Mafalda. Then again, most people seemed to have odd names, like Piers and Dudley. Harry was glad his name was simple and easy to remember. Anyway, the younger girl was clearly intelligent, but rather rude, constantly butting in on their time together. It was clear she did not understand that Linda was, as she had put it, the exception that proved the rule that girls were weird and to be avoided in large part.

The Williams' had agreed to let the boys come over despite their visitors, and told them they could either go outside or spend time in the living room as they would be in the parlor and did not want to be disturbed. Mafalda, for reasons best known to her, invited herself along as they went outside. It was all the cousins could do to stay calm as she continuously talked over Linda or corrected her. If someone else tried to get a word in edgewise, she would chide them saying that it was rather rude. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

"Well my father says I'm to start learning Latin and arithmetic next year. I bet he'll teach me what you're learning now. I'm so excited. I bet I'll learn loads."

Dudley, who had at this point been very patient – especially for him, lapsed at this point, muttering to himself something that sounded distinctly like, "I wonder if you'll learn to shut up." It just goes to show that attempts to be polite only went so far, particularly with boys.

The young girl's eyes narrowed considerably at him.

"I wonder if you'll learn to shut up before you get yourself in trouble," she snapped, eyes crackling. "You don't want to mess with me. Trust me."

"Right, sure. You're so dangerous with you keeping us a captive audience in an attempt to not hurt our friend's feelings," Harry said sarcastically, rising to his cousin's defense.

Mafalda's gaze turned to him sharply.

"Fine, but I'm just warning you. I might not be much right now, but when I'm older, just you wait."

"Mafalda, please… "

But Linda's plea went unheard as Harry fixed the young girl with a calm stare.

"I don't want to be your enemy, Mafalda. But take some friendly advice; you should never go into a conversation thinking that you are the superior."

Before Mafalda could muster up some sort of retort, a calm voice broke into their little feud.

"Well said, Prongslet."

Walking up behind them, Remus mussed Harry's hair, to his disgruntlement as he tended to keep his bangs in place to hide his scar.

Fortunately for Harry and Dudley (and Linda come to think of it), Mafalda had frozen when Mr. Lupin showed up. Afer they had all piled on him in a group hug sans Mafalda, Lupin explained he was here to escort the boys back home. They gave their best to Linda and the Williams, leaving a happy Linda to successfully avoid the now dumbfounded and much quieter Mafalda.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Many, many people have asked me at this point whether Sirius was guilty or not. The fact of the matter is – I know just about as much as you. My muse keeps changing her mind. Suggestions with reasons are welcome, of course.

Chapter 11

_Harry, I know that you never really knew your father_  
_He was taken from all of us way too soon…_

_-Marked as His Equal_

The Dursleys did finally settle on a dental office. It had only taken them the better part of a year and a half, but at least that fiasco was over and done with. Through some miracle Harry and Dudley's teeth were in fairly good condition. Harry was briefly curious about a bushy haired girl he saw talking to one of the dentists with a school bag on her back during one of the Dursley household's visits, but he put it out of his mind.

Another school year had begun and more and more interesting things were being taught in lessons. One in particular stood out for Harry as it reawakened an interest in the concept of changing objects into something different.

Harry was at Mrs. Figg's today although the woman herself was preoccupied in the kitchen with Dudley. This left him with only the cats for companionship, so naturally, he was addressing his excitement to the bespectacled tabby who seemed to visit every once in a while. He wasn't sure why the cat was so keen on spending time with him, but he was more than happy to spend time with her, especially now when he needed some sort of audience – even if it was in the form of a cat.

"Science was brilliant today. They taught us about the changing of matter. You know, how when you freeze water, it turns from liquid into a solid – ice? Well, that's just one example. And of course you can boil a liquid and it will turn into gas, like for water it turns into water vapor. She also showed us how some solids… I think she said what she showed us was called frozen nitrogen. Anyway, they can turn from solid to gas. The only difference between solids and liquids and gases is how tightly the matter is held together. I think she said it depends on how much energy is between the molecules and how tightly they're packed?"

Harry shook this off, pacing the room as he talked to the half surprised and apparently interested feline. The others in the room were happily ignoring Harry as long as he did not step on them.

"I asked her about it later. About what molecules were. She didn't really think I'd understand, but I started asking for supplementary material a year or so back on interesting things because most of the assignments are so easy. I like helping Dudley with his and all, but I still wanted more of a challenge for myself. So she gave in and explained that molecules are made up of atoms, and atoms are basically the smallest stable bit of matter. And matter is just… what stuff is made of. She said there was more to atoms but she'd explain it later. There are little differences between the atoms of each element and elements combined create compounds and make up a lot of what we interact with. Water is a combination of the elements hydrogen and oxygen, for instance, and there are all these different combinations that create other things."

Winding down, he smiled a little. "It was really cool. It got me thinking and I think I know what was messing me up before. I can't wait!"

Clasping his hands together, Harry just beamed as if everything made perfect sense now. The cat just mewed, moving towards him with a curious tilt of her head. Dudley chose that moment to walk into the living room where Harry was though; announcing that the cookies were ready and he better hurry if he wanted some, so any further conversation between Harry and cat was tabled for now. He certainly left the cat with quite a bit to think about now.

But Harry was now at the older and much wiser age of almost nine and he was slowly putting more things together. Coupled with a growing knowledge of the world, more of his free time would soon be devoted to magic once more.

Before now, he has taken the time to learn things of course. After much experimentation, he can unlock doors and will himself unnoticed. Harry had also found that he could cause things to burn without affecting their surroundings or simply start a fire. He could also turn lights on and off and if he concentrated hard, he could form a sphere of light in the palm of his hand that he thought of as a 'mage light'. He had also discovered, after some extensive effort, a way to warm things up or cool things down, and he could even cheer people up – although he tended not to unless someone was, say, stressing after a test to no purpose. Then the worry just wasn't helpful and he didn't feel bad about it at all. Otherwise, he didn't really want to mess with people's moods like that. It felt too invasive of their privacy.

This is not as difficult as it might seem because a year or so back his teachers had started to offer supplementary material for Harry to cover in order for him to remain challenged. With his guardians' semi support and certainly no ill feeling and Dudley's disinterest and therefore lack of jealousy, there was nothing to make Harry hold back in his efforts at schooling and he had been vastly rewarded. Well, he'd been rewarded anyway.

Given his age, he could only understand simplified concepts, but he immersed himself as best he could, acquiring all sorts of books from the local library on things ranging from chemistry to biology and – while he was by himself or with just Dudley – the paranormal. This was not to imply he slacked off in his other classes. He still put forth an equal amount of effort in all of his classes. It was simply that he had enough imagination on his own and with the help of his friends to come up with ideas, but lacked the know how to put his ideas into action. Thus far, his research was the best way he knew of to help, along with trial and error anyway.

Remus and Petunia noted Harry's growing interest in studying, but neither said anything about it, not wanting to hinder any progress he made.

Eventually, a day did come when Remus pulled Harry to have a heart to heart, but it was over a completely different matter. The guilt had overwhelmed him at this point and he truly thought Harry was old enough to understand. He also knew that this talk would be one of the more difficult things he had ever attempted.

It started innocuously enough. Harry had stopped by for one of his regular visits. After a short side conversation with Peter, he had convinced his friend to run interference for him in case Petunia or Vernon showed up early to pick the boy up. Then, he had walked outside. Harry had long ago started spending time outside before he would come in. Remus wasn't sure what he did, having always let him have his time alone uncontested before now.

So Remus was understandably surprised when he realized Harry was actually talking to something. Whispering really, all he could make out was a faint hiss. Not wanting to intrude he cleared his throat to announce his presence. Remus heard something drop – which was odd given he had not thought Harry was holding anything. There was also a slight flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, but Remus didn't turn to see what it was, his attention was focused on his pseudo-godson.

"We need to talk, Harry."

The young raven haired boy just turned to face him. There was intelligence in Lily's eyes as they peered up at him from James' face.

"Alright, Uncle Remus."

Suddenly, Lupin felt tired already, wondering if Harry would ever call him that again. He hadn't wanted to lie to him, yet wasn't that what he was doing?

Deciding to get a handle on himself, he led Harry into what served as his study, casually gesturing to the chairs once they were in the room. Once Harry had chosen one, sitting on the edge so his legs didn't dangle, Remus allowed himself a small before sitting down himself.

"I'm not precisely sure where to begin," Remus admitted, looking a little frayed as he ran a hand through his hair. "I wanted to tell you a long time ago, but you were too young, and I'd made promises. I still have those promises to keep."

Harry had been watching him silently throughout this, and chose now to finally speak again.

"Then why am I here, sir?"

Remus sank back into his chair, closing his eyes momentarily.

"Because you deserve to know. I'm going to be as honest with you as I can, but I want you to understand, I cannot tell you everything. I'm sure you have noticed by now that some people put great stock in appearances."

Harry nodded slowly to this, thinking of Mafalda and Piers as well as quite a number of adults he had met.

Seeing Harry understood what he was talking about, Remus gave him a half smile.

"Good. What you have to understand, Harry, is that your aunt and uncle are that sort of people. They like very much to pretend that there isn't anything strange and unusual."

Remus gave Harry a mysterious smile.

"But I think we both know better than that, don't we?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up at his adoptive uncle's last sentence, a jitter of excitement filling him.

"You mean magic?" He asked excitedly. "That's why you never told me when I asked? Could my parents do it too? Is that why you always told me I would learn more when I was older? Why don't Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon like it, I think it's absolutely brilliant –"

Harry would have quite happily continued firing questions if Remus hadn't shushed him gently.

"Easy there. I can only answer so many questions at once."

The messy haired boy at least had the grace to look contrite as the older man tried to gather his thoughts before starting his answer.

"Strictly speaking I'm not allowed to tell you the answers to most of those questions. Yes, it is why I never told you and why I, like your aunt and uncle, always told you we would tell you more when you were older. I'm sorry to say your uncle still does not think you are old enough, although I believe your aunt has other motives for wanting to keep it a secret."

Amber eyes searched green before Remus spoke again, "However, seeing as you seemed to have discovered magic for yourself, I feel no guilt whatsoever in telling you that your assumptions are quite correct. Now, is there anything else you want to know?"

It took only a split second for Harry to decide what he wanted to know most of all.

"What happened to my parents? They didn't really die in a car crash, I know, but… how'd they die? Why did they die?"

Harry watched Mr. Lupin's expression turned grave, and for a moment he worried that he would be told he had to wait yet again.

"That's a bit of a long story, Harry," Remus spoke slowly. "And I'm afraid I cannot yet tell you all of it. What I can tell you is that they were murdered by the leader of a… terrorist group of sorts. He thought that you would one day be a threat to him and so sought to destroy you. Your parents, understandably, were rather against this. They died, Harry, so that you could live."

This was rather much for Harry, and suddenly he knew why his questions had been deferred for so long. He almost thought he would really rather not know, but he found himself asking one last question in a hoarse voice as his emotions overcame him.

"Why me?"

Remus' expression turned concerned. Leaning over to Harry, he grasped one of the boy's hands in his own.

"Harry, I want you to listen to me, okay?"

When Harry nodded, he continued.

"Their deaths were not your fault. We were in a war, and they made a sacrifice to protect you. Your parents loved you very, very much, as do I. We all would have died for you, because you were our future. You did absolutely nothing to make them a target. Okay?"

Remus searched the young boy's eyes for a moment before pulling him into a hug.

"I wish there was more I could tell you, Harry. I hope you can forgive us for trying to protect you from the truth."

Harry said nothing and did nothing other than to cling to his adopted uncle as the new revelations slowly sunk in for him.

"What happened to him? The man who killed them?"

Harry barely caught Remus' whisper, "He hasn't been seen since. Something stopped him from killing you, and people think he's dead. But the truth is, he's still out there. He's weak and alone for now. I dread the day he returns."

* * *

Harry emerged from that conversation much more introspective than he had gone in. He was briefly glad it did not appear that Uncle Remus had noticed him talking to the snake. Or perhaps Mr. Lupin had only thought he was talking to himself. Harry knew Dudley couldn't understand the snakes, but perhaps it was a magic thing. Whenever the snakes actually addressed him, they would call him Speaker, so perhaps it was a gift on top of that. He wasn't sure, but it didn't really bother him anymore. Harry was used to speaking to snakes at this point. The idea of his parents being murdered… of dying for him, that was. Sure, he might have entertained the idea over the years, but this was reality, and it was rather sobering.

He had not missed Mr. Lupin's last words either. Their killer was still alive. In hiding for some reason, but alive, and he'd be back."

The small boy tightened one hand into a fist, a determined glint entering his eye.

He would have to be ready.

Only a few people would understand when Harry started to take his studies so much more seriously. He would join in with Dudley on coaxing the older boys for boxing tips and would often wrestle his cousin. While he was a full participant in their football matches, he seemed to above and beyond, actually doing some of the exercises Vernon had wanted to start them on for whatever insane reason all of those years ago. For the most part, this meant that Harry had started to jog regularly and did a routine of sit ups and push ups and the like. He didn't touch the weights at all, just did a few exercises a day and made sure to stretch (he had been painfully sore the one time he hadn't).

Yet despite this, Harry truly did delve into his studies, seeking out help from Uncle Remus or Aunt Petunia whenever he had a question. Knowledge was power, after all.

He confided in Dudley one day, and his cousin soon joined him to an extent. He would chase after Harry whenever the younger boy went out on a jog, making a game of it. If he caught Harry, they had to wrestle. If Harry completed his jog before Dudley could catch him, Harry got to use the old toy room for magic practice.

And that brought them to another change in their lives. Petunia had decided it was far beyond time they each had their own rooms. She had moved all of their old toys to the cupboard under the stairs and had let the boys decide who was getting what room between the two.

Given that most of the things hidden under the loose floorboard involved Harry, the decision of who was moving out, so to speak, had been an easy one. It did not make it any easier to get used to the concept that the old toy room was now his room. Well, at least he got the desk. Vernon had wanted to get rid of it, but together Harry and Dudley convinced otherwise.

Once he had adjusted himself, Harry would later confide what Uncle Remus (he told himself firmly that after having had that sort of talk with the man, he was not going to think of him as 'Mr. Lupin' ever again, that was far too formal) to his cousin. Dudley had been aghast as well, but promised to help as much as he could.

To this end, the children of the Dursley household were currently browsing the local public library under Uncle Remus' supervision. Technically, this was their revision time, but he had always encouraged them to expand their horizons, as it were.

Walking side by side, Harry inspecting the books and Dudley trailing his fingers across the spines, they had just caught a glimpse of fiery bright red hair that could only belong to Mafalda when their attention was diverted by a book that fell from the top of the stacks – right on top one of their heads. There was a simultaneous yelp, more from sympathy at the idea of a book falling than it actually hurting – like when someone stubs their toe and you, although you aren't involved at all, still say ouch.

Naturally, after all this they simply had to inspect the book. And then yet again, not quite able to believe their eyes, for in between the two boys lay an otherwise ordinary looking book with a rather extraordinary title –_ So You Want to Be a Wizard_.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: As much as I might like to, no this won't be a crossover. Partially because my copy of the books are a while away from me (a friend has them, and I don't know when I'll get them back) and it's been a while since I've read the Young Wizard series. Mostly, however it won't be a crossover because I'd like to stay in the Potterverse for the most part. That doesn't mean Harry and gang can't learn from it.

As a side note, I wasn't originally going to bring Hermione in, it's done so much and as I have said before, I'd like this to be a unique fic. Sadly, I just couldn't resist introducing the possibility. Don't be surprised however, if you don't see a lot of her at first.

* * *

_Why couldn't I've been the one?_

_She yells up straight to sky._

_Why couldn't I've been the one?_

_But the Moon will never will reply._

_No, the Moon will never reply._

_- Let's Lumos!_

Chapter 12

It was impossible for anyone in the vicinity to not have heard the loud thunk of the book as it met skull. The other library patrons turned briefly to the sound or just ignored it. One redhead, however, seemed keen on investigating.

Sighing to himself, one Remus Lupin stood up and went to perform damage control. He recognized Mafalda's type. Bratty and full of herself, the only redeeming quality he'd noticed was her youth. Her opinions up until now could still be attributed to her raising in part, so he wasn't going to hold it against her.

Well, not completely anyway.

Intercepting the small girl, he noticed the older redheaded man watching her.

"Good to see you again, Mafalda," Remus greeted good-naturedly. "That your father?"

The deer in headlight look was not Mafalda's best, Remus noted with hidden amusement as the young girl looked between Harry and her father. Eventually, she caved in to the teacher like charisma Remus had mastered some years ago while coaching the boys. Although in the end, that didn't matter much as her father had taken it upon himself to come up and introduce himself anyway.

"Who's this then, Poppet?"

Lupin grinned to himself. Yet another successful diversion, why had they had only ever relied on Peter again? He had become rather accomplished at it himself.

"Remus Lupin, pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm here watching Harry and Dudley Dursley. They are friends of the Williams' daughter. I believe you're friends of theirs?"

The redhaired man ended up stuttering out a yes and Remus was able to easily usher them to a different part of the library and a complete different line of conversation.

Had Harry and Dudley known, they would have appreciated the gesture. As it was, they made good on their escape anyway, sliding over to their table having silently agreed that this book was coming home with them.

The rest of the library trip passed without incident. When the time came for the group to leave, they made sure to sneak it in, which was fairly simple since Harry held the library card. Mission accomplished without a hitch, it was only a matter of containing their interest until later in the evening. Something that turned out to be easier than either boy had expected. Both were interested on some level after all, Harry for the possible help and Dudley just because he had slowly grown to appreciate all sorts of stories and this one seemed incredibly promising.

So it was certainly fortunate that a certain Peter Pettigrew had chosen that day to drop by for a visit. He had been sitting on the steps of Uncle Remus' town home, just waiting for them although he could have easily gone inside. Because of this, he was mobbed by the two young boys, both greeting him enthusiastically and inquiring as to how he was and where he had been.

Peter was not as accessible to the two boys as Remus was, given the fact Peter lived and worked in the magical world for the most part. Because of this, he was always a little surprised by the effusiveness of the greetings he received. Remus would just smile at it all like it was perfectly normal, but Peter was not used to being wanted or included having spent so long on the fringes. It was a rather nice feeling, being wanted and fully included.

It almost made him feel guilty that he was here this time more for business then pleasure, but such was his life. Due to the nature of how he spent most o his time at Hogwarts, while he had a grasp on many complicated spells it was only a passing one and his grades and test results certainly did not reflect it. James and Sirius had not spent an overly large amount of time coaching him after all. While Remus probably would have, it was James and Sirius' attention that he had craved, much to his regret now. If only he had the courage to stand up for himself, maybe things would be different for young Harry now.

If only he knew how much he had changed Harry's life for the better, maybe he would be more confident in his own worth. As it was, their two young charges spent the rest of the afternoon regaling Peter with stories and piling question upon question for him to answer.

It would not be until later that night that Harry would sneak into Dudley's room so they could both read the book. Sure, it was a little disappointing for Harry that it was just a story book really, but that did not dampen their curiousity a whit. Especially when they came across the Oath of Wizardry, at that point Dudley was all for saying it just to see if anything would happen. After all, the book had fallen on them unexpectedly without them looking for it, surely that meant something?

Harry was a bit hesitant though and luckily convinced his cousin to wait, especially with the mentions of an ordeal. There wasn't any point in rushing in, even if it was not real. Thus placated, the two read a few more chapters before Harry finally left to sleep.

Petunia came across him in the hall and was surprised to see him awake. To Harry's relief, she did not seem to notice the book clutched at his side. After giving his aunt a story about having needed to use the loo, Harry slipped back into the relative solace of his bedroom, leaving his aunt to her thoughts.

One Petunia Dursley nee Evans had been rather introspective lately, much like her nephew, but for different reasons. While Harry was dealing with the news of his parents' murder and the fact their murderer was still out there and would no doubt come back and try to finish the job he started, Petunia was battling with her conscience and her fear. She could not deny that Harry was old enough to learn the truth they had been shielding him from for so long, she had no idea how to go about it. Part of her was jealous of her nephew, for he no doubt had the same gift his mother and father had – the gift of magic. She had spent many years envying her sister, wishing that she had been the one to get the letter, an invitation to attend Hogwarts that she had no doubt whatsoever would wing its way to Privet Drive come June of Harry's eleventh year.

But more than jealousy, she was afraid of losing her nephew in the same way she had lost her younger sister. Back when they had been little, Lily had practically worshiped the ground she walked on. She, Petunia, of all people had been trusted above all others. When she had not been able to wrap her head around the reality of magic in time, instead fearing what she did not understand, Lily had distanced herself from her once beloved older sister. Not understanding, angry, and jealous, Petunia had done what most children would in her place – lashed out at the one who was causing her all of these hurtful feelings, even though it had been no fault of Lily's. It was only now, years later that she could fully admit that. It was not even that Sirius Black's fault, for Lily had not liked him to begin with either. She had changed her mind only later, and Petunia regretted not having been close enough with her sister to help somehow, even just as support.

Petunia did not want Harry to grow up and away from her the same way Lily had. She knew that he, like Dudley, would grow up anyway, but that was different. Everyone ended up growing away from their mother. Not everyone grew out of an entire world.

One of the other reasons she had not yet told Harry the truth was that she had no idea how to broach the subject. In the back of her mind, she secretly wondered if she could approach the person who first told her about magic and Hogwarts – that strange, intense boy who had been Lily's only true friend for so long. He would know far more than her on the subject.

True, she knew that she could ask Peter or Remus to explain, and she did plan on letting them know at some point soon that they could discuss it. The crux of the matter was though, that Petunia wanted to come clean to the young Harry herself as well as her son. She had not meant to keep it a secret for so long, but like most secrets, the longer it had been kept the harder it got to finally let it go. If she told Harry with the aid of that Snape fellow, then maybe she would be able to avoid the accusing glares of 'did they make you tell me or did you decide on your own to finally unleash havoc on my world?' The trick would lie in convincing the man to actually help her. It was worth thinking on anyway.

/

A certain headmaster named Albus Dumbledore had a lot on his mind at the moment. The Wizengamot was not currently in session, which was a bit of a blessing, but there was always something to do at the school, even if it was just meetings with the professors.

What he was currently pondering, however, had little to do with his position as headmaster and much more as the leader of an organization known as the Order of the Phoenix. Many years ago, he had placed the Prophecy Child in the care of his relatives. In his position as both the leader of the Order and Headmaster, he had heard several stories about the Dursleys. His Deputy Headmistress had been particularly outspoken, saying that no matter the feelings between Lily and her sister, the Dursley household were the worst sort of muggles, bigots little better than the sort that had caused such strife in their own world recently. The Dursleys were hardly about to start a civil war, lacking a leader and the right sort of ammunition, but it had long weighed heavily on the man that he had to leave a young child with them for his safety. He had known it was far from a perfect plan, it was simply the only course of action that formed some sort of definite protection. And he had been glad of it, especially after what had happened to the Longbottoms.

Needless to say, he had been surprised when Mrs. Figg reported that she had seen little Peter Pettigrew, not so little anymore, inquiring after the boys as if he saw them somewhat frequently. He had not expected the Dursleys to allow any of the wizarding world contact with their family, much less the remaining Marauders. It was a surprise, but a nice one. In fact, the only downside he could think of was that Harry's year might be more mischievous than it would have been otherwise. Then again, this was Peter and Remus, their influence might lean a little less towards pranking, but then it's the quiet ones you need to watch out for most….

Suffice it to say that Dumbledore would have worried more if Sirius Black was the one influencing the young Harry Potter, for more reasons than one really after the discovery of the depths of Black's treachery. When the Potters had been betrayed, Albus had not wanted to believe it for he had trusted the young Sirius as well. His newest Potions Master had been particularly bitter about it, given that while Black was in Azkaban now, if justice had been served as Severus Snape had wished all those years ago, the Potter family might still be alive. The only reason Severus had not gloated to the Dumbledore about it was that it was just as much his own fault as Black's that Lily was dead. Well, that and he just was not the type to go out and wave an 'I told you so' in the face of the man who had helped save him. There had been far too much guilt on the young man's plate to heap more on his mentor's.

In another part of the castle, Minerva McGonnagall was pondering the mini lecture Harry had given her on muggle science as a cat. It was clear that he had managed to develop his parents' intelligence without James' need of showing it off extravagantly. Harry had been excited but it had not been the flashy sort of display his father was known for, rather a more hyper version of Lily, or even Remus, come to think of it. Although he was starting to cultivate the sort of charisma that came naturally to James and Remus had always seemed too shy to possess. He was such a happy little boy. Thankfully many of the Deatheaters, including Black, were locked up in Azkaban. That measure along with the blood protection Albus had enabled meant Harry was able to grow up like a normal little boy, without having to worry about his life being in danger, indeed, not even knowing that his life was in peril at all.

McGonnagall frowned slightly, finally pinning down what seemed so wrong about the whole Sirius Black. Lily and James had made Black their son's godfather. That would imply there was some sort of magical filial bond between Harry and Sirius as well as making Harry Black's current legal heir. But if that were the case, then surely Black would be a squib or worse for having betrayed the Potters, for surely he had known the fifteen month old could at least possibly be killed in the melee.

Unless he had been on You-Know-Who's side by that time. But then, that either left Harry with no godfather and just his incapacitated godmother Alice Longbottom… or an unknown godfather. That would bear some looking into, if only because godparents had clout in a child's life as long as they were considered a minor.

The answer was closer than she thought, although it would be quite some time until the truth was revealed but it lay in the hearts of the remaining Marauders, never spoken but silently felt.

Peter and Remus were having their own conversation back at Lupin's town home. Theirs was rather innocuous, just two friends catching up on the goings on in either world – not exactly conversation you wanted your neighbors to get wind of due to secrecy, but not matters of state either. Remus was in the middle of trying to convince his remaining best friend to come and visit more often and for longer periods of time when Harry was dropped off after school. Peter had chosen to visit on one of Harry's days to visit intentionally, so it should not have been a surprise, save for the fact the time had run away from the two men.

Either way, it made for an uncomfortable silence when the young Potter child first burst through the door. Instead of following his usual pattern, he had headed straight towards the study, as he knew his Uncle Remus was actually home, and entered at the precise time he knocked.

"Uncle Remus? Oh, hey Uncle Peter!"

The appellation slipped out accidentally, but noticing the stunned but pleased expression, Harry decided he was not about to mention that.

"I was wondering if I could ask you some questions?" The young boy looked at both of them, as if just noticing the awkward atmosphere.

"That is, unless this is a bad time?"

"No, no, not at all, Prongslet," Remus spoke for himself and the daze Peter. "Questions about homework?"

Harry shifted a little uncomfortably, causing Peter's interest to shoot up as Remus gave the boy a knowing look.

"Not exactly… they're about something else."

Remus moved to shut the door before turning to face his fellow Marauder and the only descendant of the group thus far.

"I'll answer if I can, Harry. Sit down. We might as well bring Peter in. He and I have gotten into enough scraps together; I know we can trust him with a secret."

Winking to his compatriot, Remus flicked his wand, conjuring a comfortable seat for Harry as he and Peter already had chairs.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I have gotten many comments recently about my story being slow moving. I can't disagree so I suppose I'll just apologize? My focus has been on making this story believable more than moving quickly. I also like the fact that I can read reviews and adjust the furthering of my plot as it goes on that way.

And for those who wish I'd be less confusing about the truth of the Fidelius, all I can ask is for your continued patience. I've heard quite a bit for and against Sirius being guilty at the moment, and I take each review into consideration. At the end of the day, the 'who is guilty' is going to be based on 'what makes a more interesting story to write and read and is plausible'. That's about all I can tell you.

I will, however, see what I can do about picking up the pace of the story.

As always, reviews are love! And thank you for reading. And remember, anything you recognize is not mine.

Also, I do at one point reference a quote that can be heard from Rifftrax's take on Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Ten points to the house of whoever spots it. I also include the first version of the Wizard's Oath.

As a by the way, sorry this is so late. Things got in the way.

* * *

_You are more than just a werewolf._

_You are more than just a man._

_You are going to be somebody's hero._

_You've got to try the best you can._

_TM Riddle_

Chapter 13

The conversation began rather blunt and to the point, with Remus asking what this was about. Harry had been a bit apprehensive at first, seeing as Peter was not technically in on the secret. Uncle Remus' assurance went a long way though and eventually, and after a moment Harry accepted the decision.

Setting down his school bag, he unzipped one of the compartments and fished out a particular library book he was not entirely sure he ever wanted to return.

"Why don't I have anything like this?"

Curiousity scrawled across his expression, Remus picked up the book, flicking through a few pages before returning his gaze to Harry.

"A fiction book?"

Harry sighed. "No, Uncle Remus. Why isn't there some way to teach me or guidelines to follow? What is the point of having power if it is completely random?"

Remus and Peter exchanged glances, and surprisingly it was Peter who spoke first.

"Harry, I know you must be confused right now. What you need to understand, is that… this gift of ours, is just that – a gift. There isn't the sort of structure you might be looking for because we cannot control who has magic. Witches and wizards, we're human, just like muggles. And that's a dangerous as well as a humbling thing."

Harry raised an eyebrow, looking from Peter to Remus shrewdly.

"What's a muggle?"

Remus sighed at this, taking it as his turn to field the question.

"Nonmagic folk, Harry. I really would have rather not brought up that term until absolutely necessary, but it's out in the open now."

Harry's expression turned puzzled. "Why call them a muggle? Really, of all things?"

"You see Harry," Remus began distantly, as if talking with experience from the other side of this phenomenon, "when a group of people is different, it helps to come up with a funny sounding word or slur to describe them. It allows the naming group a certain sense of power, betterment, and therefore entitlement."

Harry frowned slightly, but nodded, deciding to discuss this with Dudley later.

"So you are saying that there isn't any type of training?"

Remus gave him a steady look, silencing Peter with a steady hand.

"Not quite yet, Prongslet."

Sighing, Harry backed out of the room after thanking them for their time and repacking the book. _So much for that idea._

Harry's focus on finding any real world applications to what he and Dudley had read in _So You Want to be a Wizard_ was about to be shunted to the side for a time. Petunia had taken the boys in for their regular check ups, and this year had asked to include an eye exam for both boys. She had noticed that they tended to huddle close to their books when they were studying, and she wanted to make sure that it was not from vision problems.

For Dudley, it turned out to just be force of habit. Harry's vision was bad enough to need glasses though. Petunia had talked to Vernon about possibly investing in some contacts for the boy. The optometrist and Vernon both wanted to see if Harry could handle the responsibility of taking care of his glasses first though, so that idea fell to the sidelines so like so many others.

However many ideas that were occasionally tossed away for further ideas not withstanding, a good amount were picked back up and continued. One of these was Harry and Dudley's puzzlement over the Oath. They happened to start discussing it one day when Peter had brought them to the library. After Harry had slipped and called him 'Uncle', the shorter man had started to hang around more often. This included taking the two cousins on trips as well as being a friendly listening ear whenever they needed it. Peter was also the only adult they had confided their pranking escapades to, and he had surprised them with not only his acceptance but his inventiveness. He had seemed a little withdrawn on the idea at first until the cousins had made it clear they were not bullying others, merely defending themselves in amusing ways. No lasting harm other than perhaps a memory of being soaked with water or sitting on something prickly was ever meant or given by the group.

But pranks were not the object on the table today. Instead, Harry and Dudley debating the oath found inside the book.

In Life's name and for Life's sake, I say that I will use the Art for nothing but the service of that Life. I will guard growth and ease pain. I will fight to preserve what grows and lives well in its own way; and I will change no object or creature unless its growth and life, or that of the system of which it is part, are threatened. To these ends, in the practice of my Art, I will put aside fear for courage, and death for life, when it is right to do so - till Universe's end.

-The Wizard's Oath

Dudley still thought the idea seemed wicked, but Harry was cautious. He didn't want to accidentally set off something that they could not follow through on. So they had been talking about what was included in the oath, which led to their current debate. Harry thought this oath would prevent him from learning how to 'change' things as he had been struggling to do recently. He had only just begun to get any sort of minor change at all, and as he was not one to back down from a challenge, didn't want to stop just because of an oath from a fiction book.

Harry's blonde cousin didn't seem to understand this though, and disagreed with Harry's logic. Not that the oath would prevent him from doing so, but that 'changing' was really a good idea at all. Dudley was of the opinion that it would make the things he changed have some serious identity issues.

Their argument was kept down to just above a whisper, they had discovered whispering actually carried more, due to the fact it was being conducted in a library. It was also partially because Linda and Piers were supposed to show up to discuss a school project. Linda had warned them that Mafalda might be coming – something no one was really looking forward to, but accepted for Linda's sake. She would have pranked them something fierce if they had not, after all. Even if they thought the younger girl really was exceedingly annoying.

Piers had become one of Dudley's best friends over the years. While Harry and Dudley always had each other's backs, when it came down to it, Dudley was more likely to ask for more support in the form of Piers than Harry. This was largely because of the fact Harry didn't like even risking getting others in trouble. If forced, he accepted help with grace, and had over the years learned when he did need to ask for back up, but it was in the beginning that the foundations had been laid down. Linda never seemed to mind, but Piers and Harry would never be quite as close as Piers and Dudley, and those two were still a far cry from the closeness of the cousins.

Harry was in the middle of a ramble about all the possibilities that changing things could open up when Dudley cleared his throat and opened one of their textbooks to a random page.

"You sure we're set on our homework then, Harry?"

The raven haired boy frowned over his glasses for a moment, but played along. This was lucky for Harry, because their friends and the tag-along had just entered the library, and Linda would not have been pleased to find out they had gotten nothing done in their absence.

Currently, they were tasked with a history project, tracing a major event in history along with how it affected British society as a whole. They were dealing with basic, simplified information, given their ages, but there was still a variety to choose from.

Being kids, the gang's first impulse was to catch up on how everyone was and to gossip about school, not to go directly to the assignment. This gave Mafalda time to observe them, quietly to Linda's surprise and gratefulness. She did interrupt them before they actually started working though, softly murmuring what sounded a lot like 'I'm sorry'.

Now, Piers was not exactly sure what was going on, he had heard about Mafalda, but never met her before. Linda was in shot that the snobby brat she had been putting up with before the girl went mute actually knew how to apologize. Dudley and Harry just stared at the red haired child as she continued.

"I was rude to both of you." There was a pause as she looked to Linda. "Well, all of you. I just wanted to apologize for my behavior. You were right, Harry. I shouldn't judge."

For a moment, Harry considered telling her she didn't really have permission to use his first name, but instead gave her a slight smile. It had not gone unnoticed just how difficult the apology had been for her, and the effort was appreciated given how sincere, if painfully so, the apology was. Piers was the first to break the silence.

"Well, everyone makes mistakes, right?"

There was some slight laughter at this as the gang recalled their first impressions of one another.

Bowing like a gracious host, Dudley offered Mafalda a hand.

"Care to join us?"

She blushingly accepted and sat at the table with them as they drifted off to their own aspects of the research project. She made herself useful sorting the notes they compiled and asking questions whenever they couldn't think of something.

It was during this process that she came across Harry's penned notes on the Oath. He had copied the Oath as well as his thoughts on each part.

Life is fairly obvious, you should focus on growing things and fulfilling them, not destruction.

The Art obviously refers to magic, although it implies what is taught inside this book specifically. A specific technique anyway.

You don't change things on a whim. It has to somehow benefit what you are changing, and even then you only change it if its existence or… what it is a part of? Is threatened somehow.

I will be brave when I need to in order to accomplish this.

Glancing across the sheet, Mafalda had frozen. Harry was not the only one to note the deer-in-headlights expression, but since most of the group was happy she was being quiet and doing something constructive at all – or at least not impeding their process – no one said anything. Later, when Harry had left to find a new book to reference, Mafalda trailed him through the stacks of young adult nonfiction. Harry seemed to anticipate her wish and lead her to a somewhat out of sight location so she could ask whatever was threatening to burst out of the young girl and take her tongue along with it.

"I'm curious," he spoke slowly, "what exactly has you looking so panicked over a sheet of paper?"

The question was apparent enough to let down the flood gates, for the fiery younger girl turned on him.

"You need to be careful! Oaths aren't something you just… you just do for fun. Besides, it isn't like you need it to do mag –"

Mafalda was cut off at this point by Harry cupping her mouth as, in her enthusiasm, she had begun speaking louder and louder until others were able to hear.

"So it will do something then?"

"Will what?"

One pair of green eyes and one pair of brown turned to meet Dudley's. The blonde had come to investigate after hearing a voice raised from the area Harry and Mafalda had disappeared into.

"Saying the Oath," Harry explained. He, like Dudley, was not sure how to feel about this confirmation. "What will happen, Mafalda?"

The redhead gave him an incredulous look but answered anyway.

"Oaths are magically binding. I don't know how it would work with that one… usually they've all been phrased differently. But you have to be careful! You could end up in a lot of trouble."

Piers and Linda showed up at the end of Mafalda's proclamation, with Peter just behind.

"There you are!" The older, partially balding man smiled nervously to the three children who had 'plotting' written all over their faces.

Piers mock punched Dudley's arm lightly.

"We were afraid the books had eaten you man. Let's go to my house for tea, shall we?"

Harry murmured an apology to 'Uncle Peter' before shelving unneeded library books he was holding and following them out. This had the added benefit of allowing him to linger before following the group out.

Coming up behind Mafalda, he touched her shoulder quietly.

"Thank you for telling me."

The young girl stared up into bright green eyes that were actually smiling down at her for a few heartbeats, and then the moment was over, the sound of a car engine revving breaking the silence. Harry rejoined Dudley and Piers in conversation, leaving Mafalda to tag after Linda so she would not get left behind.

* * *

A few hours later, while Petunia and Vernon were preoccupied with the telly and Harry had managed to drag his cousin away (helped by the fact it was only the news), the two found themselves sitting cross-legged in Dudley's room.

"I'm telling you, Dudley, she knows things!"

The blonde was understandably unimpressed by this stance.

"So do I, Harry. That doesn't mean we're going to be right about everything."

The smaller boy refused to back down though, getting up off the bed and pacing across the room.

"No, I think she actually knows about magic. I bet we could get her to tell us about it. Things Uncle Remus can't."

"Why don't you think mum will tell us?"

Harry bit the inside of his lip and shrugged.

"Dunno, Dud'. We'll find out eventually. Okay, so here is what we will do. We'll give your mum until my birthday to tell us. After that – we ask Mafalda what she knows. And if she does tell us – then we have her and our uncles help fill in the blanks."

Dudley nodded slowly, thinking for a few moments before speaking himself.

"What about the vow?" His tone was slightly petulant, but mostly disappointed. "I really wanted to try it. What are we going to do, just make our own?"

Harry, who had begun pacing again at Dudley's first question, froze mid-step. Starting to laugh, he met Dudley's gaze.

"You know what? Maybe we should."

Two equally devious smiles formed on the cousins' faces. Sure, this would be a big deal, and incredibly serious. At the same time though… a magic vow completely topped any secret handshake they had ever come up with.

"Besides," Harry added soberly after the initial glee had worn off, "I'm going to have to deal with whatever psycho that tried to kill me back when we were little. Maybe if we set standards for ourselves and for others, it'll make a little difference. Like ripples, right?"

Dudley gave him a weird look.

"You pay way too much attention to Miss Horner's metafroms."

"They're called metaphors, D."

The blonde nodded his head sagely. "My point exactly. Now, show me the new dancing trick you managed."

Smiling wryly, the younger complied, sitting next to his cousin companionably.

* * *

The resident Potions Master at Hogwarts was a fairly young and an incredibly bitter man. Sallow skinned with greasy hair and an acerbic tongue that he rarely saw the need to temper, Severus Snape was many things, but rarely was he ever surprised. This morning had started out normally for him. He had woken up early and immediately went for a strong pot of tea. He always found it best to wake up all at once and not let any sort of tiredness linger. There was always something to work on, so the arrangement worked out fairly well.

Breakfast was the time he generally tried to enjoy for the simple lull it provided him. It was nice not to have to focus on anything other than looking out for pranks and major outbursts, and even then he was not the only one. The only other thing that ever required his attention was the choosing and eating of his breakfast.

And that was where this morning and most others diverged. He had received a letter from an owl he did not recognize. After subtly checking for jinxes or any sort of trap or trace on the parchment, Severus had given into his curiousity and read the letter.

All that managed to do though was lead to more questions. Why was Petunia Dursley, nee Evans, writing him of all people? Particularly for help?


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I'm sorry it's so short and that it has been so long. I've been working full time on non-fic stuff, trying to save money for a) Roflcoptour, b) to get a camcorder, and c) so my bf and I can go to the Wizarding World.

I also had the joy of going through a bunch of drama on a site I belong to (not because I instigated anything but because it was an extremely small group and so what happened affected every one).

Excuses aside, I am going to try to start updating regularly again. Wish me luck! And feel free to poke me if I'm going to slow. xD

* * *

_Cause we see you for what you really are_

_A stupid little dork_

_With a stupid dorky scar_

_But it's okay_

_It's really great..._

_Draco and the Malfoys_

Chapter 14

Swooping down the corridors late at night on patrol, a pale and dark haired man could be seen snarling to himself. The man was not pleasant on his better days, but today he seemed to be in a particularly foul mood. It was perhaps because of this that there were fewer students out after hours than normal. No one wanted to be caught by Snape tonight.

Snape could care less. Insolent little brats thought they could get away with anything they wanted. He had a soft spot for his snakes, naturally, but even they should know better than to get caught. Letting them get away with things all the time only encouraged complacency, even if he did generally keep his punishments within the knowledge of only himself, Slytherin house, and the Headmaster.

He had been plagued by the thought of that wretched letter for the past few days. Snape had not responded yet, torn as he was between spewing his typical vitriol and his curiousity. For one thing, he and Petunia had never gotten along. He had no use for the plain, muggle girl, especially when she had begun to ostracize his Lily. And the horse faced girl had only ever spared a word for him if it was demoralizing.

Then again, the last time he had given in to his curiousity where Petunia Evans/Dursley was concerned was to accept the invitation to her wedding. He had known it was probably meant vengefully, seeing as it was a perfect opportunity to rub James and Lily's marriage in his face… yet he had gone anyway. Perhaps because seeing Lily at all, even if it was happily on that pillock's arm, was more than he could manage for himself these days.

He couldn't imagine what Petunia stood to gain from crawling to him for help though. The 'Tuny' he knew wanted nothing to do with magic, and had repeatedly spurned her sister's offers of succor and protection. The only thing that Snape and the Dursley couple had ever seen eye to eye on was a mutual dislike for Black and Potter. They could stand Pettigrew and Lupin, which amounted to them not yelling and sniping the moment those two walked in and instead having the decency to wait until after they had finished the perfunctory greetings.

Scowling to himself, he was pleased to find a couple foolish enough to use the Astronomy Tower – as if they thought the one of the more renowned places to rendezvous would not be checked – and lit into them, letting the letter slide to the back of his mind.

While Snape kept himself preoccupied, I certain gang of four minus tag along was busy causing havoc on Magnolia Crescent. Very well contained havoc for the moment, but left unchecked it would in time grow to be quite a nuisance for some. They had been focused on putting the finishing touches to their project a matter of hours ago. But then, for some reason they could not fathom, one of the newer students from a different class group had insulted Harry. Picked on him really, poking him in the chest and sneering about his 'stupid, dorky scar', ending with a spiel on how it was a wonder a skinny brainiac like him had any friends except for girls unless he was doing their work for them.

Naturally Harry and Dudley were both a bit titchy after this. If it had not been for Linda holding them back and Piers sneering and making some pointed comment back to the prick, the two cousins would have probably decked the other boy's lights out.

As it was, they were still high on energy and rather tense. Or rather, Dudley was. Harry was feeling a bit dejected at this point, most likely from wondering if his magic would make him more of a freak or less in his friend's eyes. Dudley knew and thought it was cool, so at least he had his cousin on his side. It was just his other two friends that Harry was unsure of. Although perhaps he should not have been given even Piers had made a gesture of support, the boy had mock punched Harry on the arm and assured him that 'they' were a team. Linda would later chime in with 'fighting the forces of darkness and bigotry' with a slight laugh, that turned into giggles when no one else knew what bigotry meant.

Back at Number 4, Petunia Dursley kept stealing anxious glances out the window. She was not sure what she was hoping for. Did she want to see an owl winging its way towards her? Did she want to see Peter making his way letter in hand? Or did she really wish to see nothing more than the typical view outside their house? Petunia found normal comforting after all. Yet at the same time, knew that the time for comfort was drawing to a close. Perhaps she ought to just grow a spine and take care of things on her own.

Sighing to herself, she felt the muscles in her shoulders relax as she turned to her husband.

"Vernon?"

"What is it, Pet?"

Gently, Petunia folded her section of the paper closed and fixed her husband with a steady gaze.

"I think it's time."

* * *

Despite Severus' hope, he had received yet another message. This time she at least had the decency to apologize for popping out of nowhere and intruding into his life. She explained that she was not sure how to explain_ their_ world impartially and her first thought had been of him. Then, of all things, she apologized for the insults she had thrown at both him and Lily in the past, stating that she might dislike magic but that didn't mean they themselves were somehow evil.

But that had not been what threw the greasy, seemingly coldhearted Potions Master. It had been what was enclosed with the letter that did. She had enclosed several pictures, one with Lily holding a baby Harry and waving to him. Another was a Muggle photograph of Harry studying his abacus, working on one of his first division problems with it. His green eyes shown brightly in the dark room as there had been little light, the flash only just capturing the abacus itself and a slight smile on the boys face. And last, was a picture of a seventeen year old Lily and a letter that had been all but forgotten inside the vault at Godric's Hollow. A letter written on parchment that was addressed to Severus and had never been opened.

With shaking hands, and ignoring the odd looks he was getting from the staff, Severus gathered up his mail and strode out of the Great Hall.

* * *

"Uncle Remus?"

Surprised to hear this address at work, Lupin looked towards the voice. Standing a few metres to the left was a very familiar duo. Light and dark, the blonde tanned and the raven haired boy pale, they somehow managed to appear mischievous and innocent at the same time with their current expression.

Looking to them cautiously as he put aside a binder, Lupin replied.

"What is it?"

The two young boys exchanged glances, then looked to him again.

"Uncle Peter told us to come see you." Dudley offered, "Well, after Harry left him speechless anyway."

This was met with a quizzical look. Trying to be helpful, if a little sheepish, Harry supplied the answer to the unasked question. "I asked him how to deal with bullies, and how you know whether or not you can trust someone to be loyal to you. Revenge pranking can't be the only answer."

Their chosen uncle's face grew drawn at this; much like Uncle Peter's had. Although Remus looked less frantic and more tired, he was still absorbed in some past memory as well.

"I don't know if I am the best person to tell you that, Harry. I can understand why Peter sent you two to me."

A quick glance around the room verified there were no hangers on listening in. Remus' confidence in this was helped by the subtle check her performed for listening charms and animagii. While performing magic around muggles was not encouraged, and the revealing of magic was forbidden, it was not as if the Ministry monitored every single spell adult wizards cast. Of course, it helped that Remus led the two boys into his office before casting said spell. The only muggle in view was Dudley and he would find out soon enough anyway.

Once Remus had sent another employee to watch the store while he was occupied and shut the door, Dudley broke the silence.

"And why exactly is that?"

Remus sighed, aging in moments.

"Because neither Peter nor I seem to have been particularly good at it. Harry… I told you once that the man who murdered your parents was after you. What I did not tell you was that by rights, he should never have found you."

Silence played for a moment as Remus gathered himself.

"You know of magic, this you have proved to me already. I assume you do as well, Dudley?"

When the blonde nodded, Remus continued. "There is a spell, a charm really, known as the Fidelius. It encases a secret inside a living soul. This person becomes the 'Secret Keeper'. What this means is that only those the Secret Keeper tells can know the secret. For everyone else, it is simply blank, as if they never knew."

The two boys frowned slightly in unison, which would have been entertaining if it were not for the seriousness of the moment.

"What… what does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything, Harry. You see, your parents used the Fidelius Charm. The man chosen to be their Secret Keeper was your father's best friend, and a great friend to Peter and myself as well. He was also appointed your godfather."

Remus growled slightly, spitting out the next sentence. "He was a traitor. He sold your parents both to You-Know-Who."

"You know who?"

"The man who killed my parents, Dud'."

Tears were evident in both Harry's and Lupin's eyes and confusion in Dudley's.

"So… what does this mean?" The blonde asked quietly after a few moments.

Harry answered before Remus could.

"It means, Dud', that you and I are going to have to be very careful. We can't make the same mistakes."

Harry turned back to his uncle.

"You said once that the man who killed them was still around. That he'd come back."

Remus nodded slowly, a broken look in his eyes.

"I'm afraid so, Prongslet."

"Then I'll have to be ready."

Remus frowned, his brows knitting. "You're too young, Harry. You don't need to run pell mell into the fray."

Harry smiled brightly, reassuringly even.

"No, I don't, Uncle Remus. But I do need to know whom I can trust. He wanted to kill me when I was a baby. I'm sure having to wait is not going to make him want me dead any less. I need to find people I can trust. Will you help me?"


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Muse ran away. Slowly dragging it back right now…

And in case any of you were interested – Roflcoptour was amazing and going was definitely one of the best decisions I've ever made.

I'm not that happy with some of these scenes, but that's probably my muse retaliating for me hitting her over the head with a shovel. And they had to be done. Even if I feel like I'm cheating by fading them out right now.

Inspiration, someone? Please?

* * *

_Now hear me,_

_Today we meet our destiny._

_Together, let's do this for Harry._

_So who are we fighting for?_

_~ Ministry of Magic_

Chapter 15

"I wish there was a simple, easy answer to that Harry. But I'm afraid, especially when you are this young, that there simply is not one. That isn't even easy for me to answer for myself.

You asked me about bullies, and Sirius Black was definitely one. It always seemed meant in good sport. When we were younger…." Remus stopped, sighing slightly. Massaging his temples briefly, he looked back down to his young charges.

"What you have to understand is that Sirius was undeniably your father's best friend. And their favorite occupation was arguably pestering, hexing, and generally making life miserable for a fellow student. I don't know what he ever did to set either your father or Black off. James always said it was just because he existed, how much more of a bully do you get than that? And Peter and I just let it happen, not actively helping the unprovoked attacks, but witnessing them and not lifting a finger to stop them either."

Harry's eyes were wide, and his face twisted into something that most closely resembled disgust at this point, while Dudley simply had a furrowed brow.

"The boy gave as good as he got of course. He had come to Hogwarts with knowledge of the Dark Arts that surpassed many upper years. But I know that excuses nothing. He was a good friend of your mother's up until fifth year. Your mother was… an uncommonly kind woman, but she was not particularly forgiving. Although perhaps it was just that they were both too stubborn to reconcile."

"What happened?" Morbidly curious, the raven haired boy couldn't help but ask. After all, he had not learned much about his mother, and clearly there was plenty of his father that he had not been told. He had thought James was supposed to be a good guy, not a bully.

"He insulted her when she tried to defend him from James and Black."

The two boys blinked.

"That's it?"

Remus just shrugged. "I don't know, Prongslet. Perhaps it was just the straw the broke the camel's back or perhaps it was a long time coming. All I know was that the moment he insulted her, she stopped spending time with him. She didn't seem particularly keen on listening to his apologies either."

Harry just kept staring at Remus with hopeful eyes, eyes that had not seen any real horrors, and a mind that could not understand the depth of depravity men could sink to if they let themselves.

"So you're saying I have to do this alone?" Harry asked nervously, ignoring his cousin's bluster of indignation.

Remus gave the young boy a gentle smile.

"No, I am not saying that at all Harry. But the best way to trust someone is for them to trust you, to make your own friends and allies. There is no magic to ensure those you wish to trust are in fact trustworthy. There are vows and enchantments that will provide you an additional, and rather false, layer of security, but not a lasting way to ensure the state of a person's loyalties. And if there were, I would beg you not to do so, for that is a dark sort of magic, controlling people in such a way, however well meant – and dangerous as well. Vows in and of themselves are not, but they do make it obvious you don't trust them, particularly if you are not careful of the wording. But more importantly, they should not be used on frivolous things as they tend to be life or death in nature."

"A vow," Harry mumbled to himself, taking in the rest of his uncle's advice. Finally, he nodded slightly.

"Well, I can trust you though, right?" The young boy asked, shifting the conversation slightly.

"Of course you can, pup."

Harry smiled slightly. "You were a friend of my parents', so was Uncle Peter. But they must have had other friends. Other people close like family, didn't they?"

"Not as close, but yes, they did," Remus murmured thoughtfully. "I take it you would like to meet them?"

Taking in both boys' expressions, Remus just sighed. "Once your aunt tells you the rest of the story Harry, if you still want to, I'll be sure to try and arrange a meeting for you with some of them."

The sandy haired werewolf couldn't help but smile at the shining and happy expression on the boy he doted on like he would his own.

* * *

Snape had debated sending a sniping response back, or at least choosing one of the more incorrigible birds to return the letter. In the end, he scrapped the idea in favor of framing Lily's picture. The well of memories, hopes, and regrets the simple photograph brought to the surface was far too full and encompassing for him to focus on much else immediately.

This distractedness had the unfortunate side effect of drawing attention from the other members of the Hogwarts' staff, not to mention the students. Severus would later pin down the source of the problem on a Gryffindor first year. Snape wasn't sure where the child had been originally been heading, but the young Gryffindor ended up on the floor after running into the Potions Master and immediately hitting the ground. Snape had absentmindedly helped the young child up and then continued on his way, his attention far too wrapped up to dignify the vagabond with a comment of any sort.

Dumbledore would later genially offer him a sherbet lemon and ask if he was feeling quite well. Not about to be mollycoddled (or worse, distracted), Snape put him off with his usual vitriol, thus assuring the man he was quite well in his own way. The other staff members' curiousity was not as easily put to rest. Professor Sprout defended his actions, but the rest were far too curious as to why he had decided not to even speak to the firstie, much less lose the opportunity to take points from Gryffindor.

* * *

The Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Professor had not forgotten about Severus' odd display at lunch. She, however, was willing to let it go in favor of pursuing a lead on a personal project of hers – discovering the reason Harry's godfather could betray him.

There were several possibilities as far as Minerva could tell. James and Lily could have theoretically used Muggle means to name the godparents. Lily could have named a different godfather, intentionally or unintentionally, before James actually named Sirius. Or, the third possibility, was that Sirius had already betrayed the Potters in his heart by the time of the christening, and therefore the magic would have settled on someone nearby who had not.

The question was figuring out which possibility was, in fact, the case. Unfortunately, it was incredibly tricky to prove a matter of godparentship. The matter was made particularly difficult when the birth parents were not around to ask for insight, or even to provide memories.

In an attempt to rectify this, she had been searching for those who actually had been at the christening. Sadly, given the situation of the Wizarding World at the time there had been very few present. The Longbottoms, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and another of Lily's friends whose name she could not quite pin down right now.

Peter had never resurfaced with a definite location after the Order had helped heal him after the disastrous confrontation with Black, so he was out. If all else failed, she could track down his work, but word had it that the Order of Merlin winner disappeared for weeks at a time. Who knew how long it would take to pin the man down? The only option she was sure could be found was Remus Lupin. For some reason, the owls she sent him kept being diverted. The only time she had successfully sent anything to him was when his own owl showed up. It was really quite puzzling.

Shaking off this mystery, the professor focused on preparing for today's lessons instead – something concrete and definite, over the possible may be of her current pet mystery.

* * *

"Dudlykins, Harry dear… why don't you join us? You can finish your tea later. I'll be sure to reheat it and get some fresh biscuits for you both."

Harry and Dudley exchanged looks at this. Aunt Petunia rarely called them by their pet names any more. That was one warning sign… but she also never asked them to just stop eating. And the promise of more biscuits – while appealing – also set off little alarm bells in both boys' minds.

Uncle Vernon was sitting rigidly on the couch, paper folded neatly in his lap.

"There are certain things we need to tell you, now that you're old enough to understand," Vernon growled out using a tone most associated with 'great importance' but was probably caused by constipation of the brain.

After some stumbling, Dudley finally managed to get say the first thing that had come to mind. "Erm… Uncle Peter already told us about the birds and the bees, Dad."

"Not that sort of talk, Popkin." Petunia reassured them both with an uneasy smile. "Come now, sit down."

Uneasily, the two boys sunk into the couch, looking between the faces of both their guardians.

The firm grip Vernon had on the chair arm and his reddened face the only visible indications of stress. Suddenly, Vernon simply blurted out, "You have magic, boy."

Given that his gaze was fixed on Harry, there was little doubt as to whom he was talking about.

The boys, for their part, were extremely excited. Not that magic was real, given they already knew that, but because the big secret was finally being revealed.

"How do you know?" Harry asked curiously. "Were my parents magic?"

"How could you not be?" Petunia responded, spitefully at first. She saddened after a moment, remembering her little sister, and how things had fallen apart so easily. "Yes, Lily was. Our parents were so proud the day she got her letter. We had a witch in the family. For the longest time, I thought she was just a freak."

Her gaze turned and focused on the two boys.

"She went off to that school, and then she met Potter, and then she had you, and I knew you would be just as strange, just as… abnormal." As cutting as the words were, they were also stated honestly and without vitriol. "Because that seems to be the best way to describe magic, no self respecting educated normal person really believes in magic after all."

"How come I don't have magic, then?" Dudley spoke up, a smuggled biscuit in his hand as he looked to his mother. "If Aunt Lily had it, why don't you or I?"

Petunia was spared having to answer this question by the query that tumbled out of her nephew's mouth moments later.

"Wait, there's a school?"

* * *

After the talk with his aunt and uncle, Harry had known that it was time to seek more information. He would not be seeing Uncle Remus for another week, but their uncles were not the only source of knowledge. After some debate, Dudley and Harry had both come to an agreement – it was time to suss out what Mafalda knew.

"I just don't understand why you want to see her, much less talk to her is all, Harry," Linda's voice trailed the raven haired boy down the hallway.

"She knows things, Linda. Look… I just need to talk to her, okay? I swear I'm not plotting with her to prank your room or anything."

"Harry, she's two years younger than us. What could she possibly know that I don't?"

The girl had finally caught up with Harry and was currently staring at him exasperatedly. When she caught Harry's guilty look however, that soon changed to surprise.

"You're hiding something from me."

He shuffled his feet a bit, glancing down.

"It's personal, Linda."

"What, but Mafalda knows? It's not too personal for you to tell her!"

"No," Harry corrected, "Mafalda knew before I met her."

Clearly not ready to relent, Linda's eyes narrowed dangerously at the green eyed boy.

"Linda, it's complicated, and it's a secret. It is not just my secret either, so I can't just tell you."

Linda just flicked her hair and walked away with a muffled, "Whatever."

Sighing, Harry knocked on the door to Mafalda's room. He was only able to muster up half a smile when the door swung open underneath his hand. The redheaded girl gave him an inscrutable look before grabbing his hand and leading him to the study. Harry was a bit confused at first until he realized the study had French sliding doors. This had the handy side effect of letting them be in a room alone without getting the talk about 'we need to know where you are and what you are doing'. Only Linda's parents seemed to really care about this, but seeing as they were currently at the Williams' house, it actually mattered.

"What did you want to see me for?" Mafalda asked curiously. She sat down before adding with an impish smile, "Especially that's so secret."

Harry was not in any mood for games, so he answered bluntly. "You know about magic."

The redheaded girl arched an eyebrow in response.

"There's really a whole society? And a school?"

Mafalda nodded at this.

"I was surprised that you didn't know. I mean, you're Harry POTTER. I recognized you the moment I saw your scar."

Harry frowned slightly at this as his hand flew up automatically to his forehead.

"What's so special about my scar? Other than it's aggravating persistence in not wanting to fade away?"

Mafalda gave him a very odd look, then took a deep breath and began.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Thank you so much for everyone who has agreed to help keep my muse in mind. It means a lot! I managed to wring another chapter out of her in a much more timely fashion this time, I'm happy. Aren't you? Thank you for sticking with me, and, as always, reviews are love.

* * *

_He told me that I was more than a boy_

_He said I could learn to be a wizard_

_I could see the magic – the wonder out there_

_Soon I'll go to a place that he called Hogwarts_

_Soon I'll be with kids, with kids just like me_

_- Ministry of Magic_

Chapter 16

"But you're the Boy-Who-Lived! Let's start with the basics, Harry. You know about You-Know-Who of course…."

Harry's expression of confusion deepened.

"No, sorry."

The redhead blinked, and then tried again. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"What, is this guy name shy or something?" Harry finally asked grumpily. "Honestly, if you don't like your name, just make a new one. What is his actual name, Mafalda? Because frankly, I'm not sure who you are talking about right now."

Mafalda shifted, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"I don't know his actual name, Harry. Dad doesn't like talking about him much. He just taught me after I started showing magic that not all wizards or witches are good. And one went really bad, styled himself a Dark Lord, and he killed anyone who stood against him. He said that it was thanks to you he was gone. He tried to kill you and you lived." Mafalda paused briefly before adding, "Well, that and you shouldn't say his name. I'm not sure why though."

Harry frowned, realizing that this was probably the man that Uncle Remus had told him killed his parents, all in an attempt to get to him. There was one thing he did not fully understand though, so he looked back into Mafalda's eyes.

"What's so special about me surviving, though? People try to kill each other all the time, and plenty of people screw it up."

The girl's brown eyes look horror stricken for a moment before she shook her head rapidly.

"No, Harry, you don't get it. He didn't try to slit your throat or strangle you or something. He used magic – the killing curse. It's one of the Unforgivable Curses. No one can block it, just like no one can truly bring back the dead."

"Then… then how did I survive?"

The young girl shook her head. "No one knows. Maybe it was something you did, or maybe it was your parents, but either way – you're famous Harry. There isn't a child in the Wizarding World that doesn't know your name. I expect you get a bit more gifts at Christmas and your birthday because of it."

Dimly, Harry recalled the first time Uncle Peter had come over with gifts. He and Dudley had overheard the man mention fans, but at the time, Harry had discarded the idea. It seemed far too ridiculous to be real. How ironic that they had heard correctly all those years ago and been living in ignorance.

"What if I don't want to be famous? I mean, I'm just… Harry. Just Harry!"

A small hand found his arm as Mafalda looked up to him quietly.

"Just Harry is fine. I'm surprised no one told you. What else do you not know?"

Harry sighed, not really sure where to begin. At least with Mafalda he did not have to pretend to already know things like he had earlier with his aunt and uncle. He had not wanted them to know that Uncle Remus had told him anything – and he certainly was not prepared to bring up what the snakes had taught him.

"I know plenty of magic itself, or at least, I know what I have been able to figure out. What I don't know is almost anything to do with the Wizarding World as a whole. Although, I admit, some of my old toys and the candies I get on holidays make more sense now. Like that book with moving pictures…"

"Yes, most wizarding pictures move. I've heard portraits can actually talk and move between frames," Mafalda acknowledged, expecting him to continue.

Her statement had thrown the boy though, and he had to take a moment to close his eyes and process things. After a time, emerald eyes met hers once again.

"See, it is things like that I need to learn. I don't suppose there are any books I could read on customs or even about Pigfarts… er, I mean Hogwash?"

"Pigfarts?" The redhead blinked and then promptly started giggling. "It's Hogwarts, Harry! Why did you think it was called Hogwash?"

He looked a little sheepish. "Well it isn't exactly a common name, is it? But that just proves my point. I mean, how can I expect to do well if I can't even remember the name of the school? Who names a school Hogwarts, anyway?"

"Obviously the founders did." Mafalda retorted before she started giggling. "Oh Harry, I do see your point. And I will try to get some books for you. My dad's a squib, and mum's a muggle so neither of them really went. But I bet Da has something on hand. If not your… erm… adoptive uncles should?"

This spiel left Harry looking a bit goggle eyed. Holding up a hand, he shook himself slightly before speaking.

"Okay, hold the horses there. The founders? And what's a squib? As for my uncles, I will be asking them things, but I figured… well I thought you might have valuable information."

The last statement was enough to make Mafalda straighten her spine and put on a more serious expression.

"Alright then," she paused to clear her throat before continuing, "Let's start with the founders. There were four total: two witches and two wizards that came together to start a school. Their names were Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Godric Gryffindor. They all wanted to provide a place where magic could be taught to those with the aptitude, although they did not agree on whom to teach. So they each founded their own group of students to teach, which became known as a house. Upon entering Hogwarts every student is sorted into one of them.

"According to Da, everyone knows that Slytherin was against the teaching of muggleborns, although no one is sure why anymore. He could have been a purist, or it could have been that while there were many magic users, they were vastly untrained at the time and muggles had plenty of weapons that could annihilate us, or even something else. Anyway, Slytherin prized the cunning and ambitious. Ravenclaw chose those with wit, intelligence, and a thirst for knowledge. Gryffindor was a Lord, and rather preoccupied with ideas of chivalry and knighthood. As such, he only took the brave. Hufflepuff took the rest, they say, the loyal and hardworking."

Mafalda chewed her lip briefly, "I'll get you a few editions of Hogwarts, A History. They're written by different alumni, so it differs a bit. Anyway, that should tell you the rest of what you need to know about it. I don't know all about it, obviously as neither of my parents went. And a squib is someone born to a magic family that doesn't have magic themselves, or not enough for spells and such anyway."

Just as she finished, their discussion was interrupted by a knock on the door. A very put out Linda slid one of the doors open before crossing her arms and staring at the two.

"Mum says it's time for tea."

Harry, feeling torn, looked between them both, then turned to Mafalda.

"Thank you for your help. Erm… could I have your number or address maybe? Then I could ask you questions without having to wait for you to visit Linda.'

The redhead nodded, ignoring the irritated look coming from the girl in glasses at the doorway as she grabbed a pen and paper and wrote the requisite information down.

"I'll see you later, Harry."

The boy just waved absently, walking out of the room with a mumbled hello to Linda as he folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket. The blonde huffed but followed him anyway.

* * *

An anxious Harry Potter and a confused Dudley Dursley would later be found inside the former boy's bedroom. Harry was occupying himself lifting and spinning various objects while he paced the room, relaying the information he had gotten from Mafalda to his cousin. As he wound down, the stress of the situation caught up with the boy, causing him to lose his concentration and drop one of the lamps with a particularly loud crash.

On the plus side, Petunia was not at home, and Uncle Vernon rarely paid attention to anything other than human cries when the telly was on. Further on the plus side, the telly was indeed on and playing one of Uncle Vernon's favorite programs. On the down side however, Harry had absolutely no idea how to fix the lamp.

Dudley was the first to break the silence, promptly taking the chance to tease his cousin.

"Some wizard you are, huh, Potter? Can't even lift a lamp without breaking it."

When Harry stuck his tongue out at his cousin in retaliation before lifting a pillow with a look that clearly said 'Push me I dare you', Dudley decided to quickly change the subject.

"But you're famous? Really? That's… " the blonde boy seemed at a loss for words for a moment, "Kind of freaky."

"Yeah, yeah it really is."

"Still… good you know now. I can't believe Mum and Dad kept something like that from us for all those years!"

"I'm just glad they finally told us, Dud. I would have hated to have to ask Mafalda about everything, and we agreed only to wait until our ninth birthdays. School's almost out for the summer now, and July is almost here."

"True," Dudley conceded thoughtfully, taking down the floating pillow carefully – and rather hoping Harry wouldn't notice his ammunition was gone as he had turned around to examine the lamp. Once that was accomplished, he sat back down, clutching the pillow to himself. "You didn't tell her, did you, Harry?"

Thrown by the question, Harry looked to the cousin he considered all but a brother. "Tell her what, doofus?"

"About that thing you do with snakes?"

Dudley watched as his cousin grew quiet. "I've seen you, Harry. You talk to them. And well… Mum said Uncle Peter and Uncle Remus were, you know, magic like you. And neither of them ever do that. Peter's the only one that seems to notice, and he seems kind of afraid of them."

Soberly, Harry met his cousin's gaze.

"No, Dud, I haven't. Because as much as part of me says, 'It's just another magic thing, I bet loads of other people can do it', I don't want to be wrong and have that knowledge in Mafalda's hands. For all I know, it could be dangerous or some mystic important thing. No… I'll ask Uncle Remus." A smirk slowly grew on his face. "But before that, I'm going to see if we can finally coax out of him why it is he vanishes once a month."

By the time the boys snuck down to the kitchen for biscuits, they had covered a few other topics (which included Dudley teasing Harry about how he should practice wearing a dress, and Harry asking if he was sure he wasn't jealous, as he seemed a little obsessed with the whole dress robe mess) and the lamp was as good as new. The only exception to the lamp's fixed condition was, perhaps, the wiring. Neither of their guardians was bound to notice or care though, the lamp had been flaky lately anyway.

* * *

Both of the boys' birthdays were coming up soon, which only led to more of an uproar in the already straining the bounds of normalcy Dursley household as school finally let out for the summer. Luckily, their neighbors on Privet Drive were quite use to the amount of excitement the two young boys at Number 4 could produce, let alone the amount they seemed to draw to themselves. The neighborhood considered Dudley and Harry, along with their friends, to be a bright spot of sorts for their community. Basically, they were the examples that proved their cookie cutter homes really did lead to happiness and success.

Over the years, the dual birthday bash had also become a piece of notoriety for those living in Little Whinging. Each year after its inception, the party seemed to improve. One year, the invitees had been invited to a flight museum of sorts, complete with replicas of planes, jets, and spacecraft. That same birthday also meant a hot air balloon ride for the young boys and their relatives. Each year, those invited and those who lived close enough to join in without seeming rude, had plenty of gossip as well as fun photographs to show off come the end of summer when everyone is faced with the dreaded 'how was your vacation' question.

This year, with the boys both turning nine, was to be no exception. While it was slightly more educational than normal, given the rare treats the Dursleys always seemed to be able to find (cute little chocolate frogs being the guest favorite). The gang would be going to a Hampton Court Palace to see the gardens, and possibly go on a tour of the house as well, depending on the attention span of both the birthday boys' and their guests.

It was what came after their official party that excited Harry and Dudley the most though, for after some coaxing they had convinced their parents (Harry knew they weren't really, but every once and a while there was a slip) to take them to Charing Cross Road. Aunt Petunia had been surprised when he pulled out the worn picture of his mum and the strange pale boy. Afterwards, she had told him about The Leaky Cauldron, wizards and witches wearing robes since they were stuck centuries behind normal people in some ways, and the boy whose name was Severus Snape. Harry and Dudley could both tell there was more to Snape than they were told though. Just the way his name had been said, much less the way Petunia had reacted to seeing him in the photograph, indicated quite a bit of history. Neither of the boys was keen on pushing their luck with finding out more about Severus Snape for the moment though, there was too much on their plate already.

Dudley had not given up on the idea of the invention of their own oath either. Harry's apparent fame in the other world only served as an incentive. People looked up to celebrities, after all, and even though Harry was only a kid and bound 'to mess up and be a prat now and then' he still had to make the effort. Harry could not really blame him either. Not only was the idea wicked in and of itself (what little kid doesn't want to be part of a secret society at some point in his or her life?), but it could also be useful, given a later talk with both Mafalda and his uncles had led him to believe that the terrorist who was after him had followers on the loose still. Seeing as Mafalda claimed oaths could be magically binding, what better way to ensure those he trusted were truly on his side? Or at least, the side not out for arbitrarily killing him?

And that was another thing; Harry didn't really understand why the differences in 'blood' were so important. Uncle Remus had tried to explain, and Mafalda had helped as well by telling him how wizarding society looked at squibs and 'mudbloods', or less derogatorily, muggleborns and the like. It still did not make much sense to the boy. What he did know was that he was starting to loathe the term muggle. He wouldn't say anything about it to anyone other than Dudley for now though. Not until he had better replacements for what he saw as slurs.

"Harry! Duddikins! It's time to work on the garden. The sooner you start, the more likely you are to avoid the heat of the day."

The boys had mixed reactions to this call. Dudley, who had been staring at their summer school work that had been assigned both by teachers and his mum, was quite glad to have an excuse to go outside. As long as their work was done first, he knew she would not have a problem with him or Harry horsing around or soaking each other with the hose. Harry, for his part, was not the most excited as Aunt Petunia always fussed over their skin beforehand, and the insistence on sun tan lotion and aggravating floppy hats, not to mention the reminder to drink plenty of water (and that's water, not tea, young man) got on his nerves every once in a while. Then again, he knew that she cared, and perhaps, that was all the difference.

Either way, Harry and Dudley still found themselves outside in the garden. Some of the time they spent out there was even productive – mostly because Aunt Petunia still joined them when she had the time, although she trusted them to do the job themselves now. Apparently she took pride in her gardening, or at least, she took pride in a well tended lawn and having fresh veg and herbs at her disposal come harvest time.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: You finally get the chapter! Those of you who have already correctly guessed Mafalda's identity: prepare to be vindicated. For the others: I hope this helps! And reviews, as always, are love.

* * *

Chapter 17

_I know a girl who talks to flowers_

_She loves how tickling feels_

_She could listen to snow fall for hours_

_She believes that nargles are real_

_Some people tease her and call her names_

_She doesn't seem to care_

_She sees no reason to be the same_

_As she dances with her hands in the air_

_Hawthorn and Holly_

Time passed quickly, and soon the birthday party (smack dab as usual between Dudley's birthday and Harry's) was upon them. The trip through the gardens, while much quieter than their usual parties, was suitably impressive. Plenty of snacks were shared and photos taken, so no one was upset. While the birthday boys themselves were not the most excited about this year's particular venue, it was a place Petunia had always wanted to see – and coming here had been their concession to see Diagon Alley later with their adopted uncles.

Somehow between the candy and treats, all of the partygoers had a good time. The gift giving had been set aside for their return to Number 4, and so the troop all duly made their way back for cake and ice cream and the unwrapping of presents.

All of the gang was present, with Piers sticking to Dudley like a burr and a confused Linda. She had slowly started to forgive Harry, given the fact he had yet to do more than smile in acknowledgement of Mafalda today.

Dudley had completed his ritual of counting the number of his presents and Harry's. It had become a habit for them to even out their presents each year if one had more than the other. A habit the partygoers did not really understand, but were aware of and put up with gracefully.

The only notable presents were Mafalda's gifts to Harry of several editions of _Hogwarts, A History_ as well as _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot and a small book with the particularly odd title of _Quidditch Through the Ages_. Harry was careful to keep the titles hidden for the most part, although Remus and Petunia both noticed them. While Remus pretended not to have seen, Petunia's lips thinned slightly as she glanced to the redhead and her parents. But otherwise she said nothing.

The rest amounted to video games and models to put together, and in one case for Dudley, a turtle. There were, obviously, other gifts, but none that jumped out. Uncle Peter would provide the wizarding candy and flowers Harry received each year (admittedly, there were less and less as the years passed) later that night when they stopped at Uncle Remus' after the trip to the Leaky Cauldron.

Slowly, the guests started to trickle out, until only the gang and their parents remained. Dudley was gushing about one of his new video games to Piers and Harry while Linda and Mafalda argued over something. Seeming to think that now was as good time as any, Mafalda's father made his way over to the Dursleys.

"You've done a great job with your boys. My daughter tells me Harry is your nephew?"

Petunia nodded cautiously, not having forgotten what she saw Mafalda give the boy. While she had grown used to Peter and Remus and had remorse for how she had treated the Snape boy, that didn't mean she was automatically alright with the rest of the Wizarding World.

The man didn't seem to notice however and simply smiled to the both of them as Vernon spoke up.

"He was my wife's sister's son. She died when he was about a year and a half. It was touch and go at first, but we Dursleys take care of our own."

Vernon puffed up a little, proud despite himself at how safe his family was and how well they were growing. Harry was a little on the thin side, but both boys were active in football amongst other boyish activities, so it wasn't a troubling scrawny. Instead, the best word to describe Harry would be small and lithe, whereas Dudley was showing promise of more defined musculature.

The redheaded man smiled quietly and nodded.

"My daughter has grown quite attached to your boys, despite how young she is. You can understand I was surprised when we were invited to visit, and I owe you both thanks for the happiness you brought my little girl."

This, admittedly, caused even Petunia's offish stance to melt slightly. Part of her had always wanted a little girl, but she and Vernon had both agreed that it was best they focus on just the two they had. Raising one magical child and their own would be enough of a handful if Harry turned out anything like his mother.

"I must confess that when my girl told me she had met Harry Potter and his cousin, I was a bit… surprised," The redheaded man began again.

"You are one of them, then?" Petunia asked, a trifle coldly as her eyes narrowed.

The man looked surprised, before a content smile formed, glad they had picked up on his hint without him having to be overt.

"No, ma'am. I have no more than a lick of magic, although my siblings and parents and the rest of my family all do. I'm what 'they' call a squib. Magicless born to magic. As you can imagine I was rather… ostracized. I have not seen my family in years."

Petunia looked flustered, so Vernon decided to respond.

"So why bring it up?"

The man shrugged. "My daughter has shown signs of being a witch. Accidental magic and the like. How she got it without her mother or I having any is beyond me, but there you have it. At some point in the next few years, I'll be sending her to my relatives in the Wizarding World. But in the meantime, while she is around, I wanted to be honest with you about her nature. Particularly given how curious she has been lately."

Both Dursleys relaxed slightly at this.

Petunia cleared her throat. "Thank you for being so upfront with us, Mr… ?"

"Prewett. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley."

Nodding politely, he donned his hat and called to Mafalda before escorting both her and Linda outdoors.

* * *

At length, Piers had finally left as well, and Harry and Dudley had helped clean up the house and stow away their gifts into their separate bedrooms. As much as part of Harry wanted to sit down and read immediately (and as curious as he was as to why Mafalda had given him more than one copy of the same book), there was still more excitement to be had.

Both boys dressed quickly in clean clothes. Remus had informed Petunia that formal wear wouldn't be necessary as wizards as a whole had no concept of muggle wear at all, so it was best to just be comfortable.

For some reason, Peter had begged off coming. Neither Harry nor Dudley understood it, but he wanted to stay out of sight. Remus had agreed to take them, and at length, Petunia had agreed to go as well. It had been decades since she had even wanted to step foot in the place, but if her boys were going, then she would as well. Vernon, after quite a bit of thought, had decided to stay home. He had enough trouble resisting the urge to yell at stupid people in public that were normal. There was not any point in going to see a bunch of odd magic folks in dresses and such and trying to hold his temper. So instead, he and Peter would be having a guy's night.

The drive to Charing Cross Road was rather quiet. While both boys were excited, and Harry in particular was ecstatic, he was also nervous. This emotion carried over to Dudley, who kept casting glances to his cousin as the younger boy fidgeted.

Petunia was the only one to sniff in disapproval at the dinginess of the Leaky Cauldron – at least, once she could see it. Remus had advised Harry to put a hand on Dudley's shoulder, and he had done the same for Petunia. While the muggles streamed by ignorant of the pub's existence, the four trooped in quietly. Remus had been sure to arrange Harry's bangs so that they clearly covered his scar. There was not much else they could do at this point, so he left it at that.

When the barkeep, whom Remus introduced as Tom, asked if he could get anything for them, it was Petunia who took charge and stated they were simply going to the Alley. He had waved them off after that and Remus had led the group into a bricked in room. Quietly, he instructed Harry to pay close attention before he opened up the wall with a series of taps.

Petunia did her best not to jump as the wall curled itself in and vanished, for all intents and purposes. She had forgotten just how impressive it could be, although she still didn't understand the purpose. If only magical people get see the Leaky Cauldron, what chances were there of someone nonmagical stumbling into their shopping district?

While Petunia managed to calm herself by focusing on reasoning, the nine and almost nine year old boys both looked a little awed as well as curious.

"How did you do that? What's the stick?" Harry was careful to keep his voice quiet, so as not to draw undo attention from those around them as they were ushered into the alley.

"The stick?" Remus looked down at the two and almost laughed out loud at the clear amazement and honest curiousity. "It's called a wand, Harry. It's how we perform magic."

"But why use a wand?" Dudley decided to ask the question on both of their minds this time. "Why not just… make it happen, you know?"

"Very few wizards or witches can perform wandless magic. The debate over whether it is from lack of practice when children are young enough or lack of power has yet to be solved, but either way, I can count on my hand the number of people I know with that power. And even for them, it's only a few spells."

Harry piped up next, "What about the weird dress? And… whoa… that owl just took something off that guy…."

The two adults exchanged glances and came to a mutual decision to guide their party somewhere they could talk before exploring more. Given this was a birthday celebration, Remus quickly brought them over to Florean Fortescue's.

They ended up waiting in line behind a girl around their age with long, pale blond hair next to a woman who was the spitting image of her. The young girl was busy twirling a sunflower as her mother asked her what kind of ice cream she wanted. When she absentmindedly replied "Peanut butter should be nice, I think," she stunned her unwitting listeners.

"Peanut butter?" Harry mouthed to his cousin, "Plain peanut butter?"

When the mother simply nodded and ordered peanut butter, Dudley, Harry, and Petunia quietly revised their opinion that the young girl was a little dotty and changed it to 'the wizarding world' was. Remus, naturally, was the only one unfazed. Ordering a knickerbocker glory for both boys, and a simple vanilla (that Petunia had at length agreed to have) and a plain chocolate for himself, he guided them all to a secluded table.

"This is why I warned you two when the idea was first brought up just how different the wizarding world is from what you are use to." He smiled fondly to the two young boys. "It is another thing entirely to see it for yourself, though, isn't it?"

Noting that Petunia was lost in her own thoughts, Remus pressed forward.

"If you don't want to draw undo attention, I would recommend keeping your astonishment to yourselves as much as possible. To answer your earlier question about the owl…" he waited until he had their full attention. "First of all, owl post is the wizarding equivalent of mail. They deliver the paper as well as letters. What you probably saw was a delivery owl, they collect knuts – a form of wizarding currency – as payment and return it to their owners. Most witches and wizards who can afford one will have an owl of their own for personal mail."

"Knuts… so, like those weird coins you paid for the ice cream with?"

"I paid with sickles, but yes. Like that." Remus acknowledged his head towards Harry. Dudley, while he was listening, was more interested in eating his ice cream for questions right now. "There are knuts, sickles, and galleons. Knuts are the tiny bronze ones with holes in the middle like you saw the owl take. Sickles are slightly larger and silver. Galleons are larger still and golden."

He then proceeded to explain that there were 29 knuts to a sickle and 17 sickles to a galleon. When asked about the exchange rate between 'normal' money (Harry still refused to say muggle), Remus explained that, like most exchanges with foreign currency it tended to fluctuate, but a galleon was approximately equal to five pounds.

The two boys took this in with a slight frown as they tried to process everything.

"Remus… Lily did set aside money for his education, didn't she?" Petunia spoke suddenly, setting her spoon down. "Vernon and I may be doing better than we were nine years ago, but affording a Hogwarts' education would be rather difficult on our paychecks."

The sandy haired man nodded.

"Yes, there was a trust account set aside for that reason. All of his Hogwarts' fees as well as plenty of money to pay for supplies and, knowing James, some extra for potential prank material. Although I'm sure he only sold Lily on the idea by selling it as 'supplementary material'." He smiled fondly at the memory of his old friends. "He will officially gain access on his eleventh birthday as it is for Hogwarts. I believe Dumbledore holds his key at the moment in safekeeping, although if you were to owl, Petunia, he may send it to you."

Petunia nodded thoughtfully and Harry sighed in relief. For a moment, he had been afraid that he would not be able to attend.

"So what's Hogwarts like, anyway? How do I get there? How long are classes, and how long of a commute is it anyway?"

Harry had fired off all the questions fairly rapidly, leaving two vaguely uncomfortable looking adults. Taking a deep breath, Remus started to answer the questions one by one.

"Hogwarts is a boarding school, Harry. You get there by the Hogwarts Express which connects in London and will then take you to a station in Hogsmeade – the closest town and one of the few all wizarding towns left in England. Class times vary, but I would imagine the standard hour, two if it is a double period. As for the length… you leave at eleven and tend to get to Hogwarts near dark, so… considerable by rail but not insurmountable."

"It's a boarding school?" Harry blanched, unaware of how he had managed to miss that tidbit all this time. "But… what about Dudley? We do everything together."

Petunia suddenly found her bowl of ice cream to be very interesting. Her mind was racing at the moment, but there was too much to even formulate into words.

The tense atmosphere was broken by Dudley's announcement.

"No thanks, Harry. Means a lot, mate. But if I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times – nothing is worth wearing those dresses."

"They're called robes, Dud'," Harry corrected quietly, his mind distant before sharpening back into focus. "I don't want to go without you."

Dudley shook his head.

"You have to, ickle Harrikins," he teased him lightly. "Remember all that stuff we talked about?"

Slowly, Harry nodded, realizing that the importance of learning to defend himself with a madman out there somewhere with it in for him was important despite his own personal wants or feelings. With a sigh, he swirled his ice cream around feeling a little out of it now.

"You better hurry up and eat that before the Painted Pipskis find it," a dreamy voice interrupted them.

Four sets of eyes turned towards the pale blond haired girl of before, sunflower still clutched in hand.

"They love just melted ice cream, you know."


End file.
